


The Scheming Rhymes of Romance

by sofonisba_found



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Dogs, F/M, M/M, POV Derek Hale, POV Multiple, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pining, Poems, Poetry, Romance, Stalker Derek Hale, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofonisba_found/pseuds/sofonisba_found
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles currently was, and had been, Derek's poetic muse for years. Not that Stiles was really all that aware of that fact.</p><p>But when Stiles does find out about it their senior year of high school, he's pretty okay with it.</p><p> </p><p>Alright, so he is definitely a lot more than okay with it.</p><p> </p><p>A story in which Derek writes copious amounts of poetry, Stiles is very appreciative of said poetry as well as Derek's smile, and all of their friends are oddly and extremely invested in seeing these two get their act together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free Verse, Roundel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swing Set in December (swing_set13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/gifts).



> Yeah, so Jen has a fondness for the idea of poet!Derek and I decided to oblige :)
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys my little indulgence in trying out different poetry forms (and the rest, I hope you like the rest of the story too :)
> 
> Beta'd by the great eak_a_mouse, any remaining errors are my own. Comments and con crit always welcome :)

What Derek was doing wasn’t creepy.

Sitting beneath a tree on the side of the path that led from the Senior parking lot to the school building, his notebook open but his attention on who was walking by wasn’t creepy. 

He didn’t care what Laura and Cora said, what his mom said, what his dad said, what his cousin Marcy said, what his best (in all honesty it was probably more accurate to say only) friends Isaac and Vernon Boyd said, what Boyd’s super aggressive girlfriend Erica said, what his Uncle Peter said, (even if he followed up calling Derek creepy by saying he thought it was cute) what _everyone_ in Beacon Hills had probably said at one point or another. He was not being creepy. 

He was following his muse. It’s what artists did. How could he create if he wasn’t able to gaze at his inspiration, to watch him move and breathe and just be…perfect. And besides, it was a long standing tradition held dear by those of the artistic persuasion to long after someone from afar. 

Well, not all that afar when he shared nearly half of his classes with Stiles. And was there in the stands for every single lacrosse game. And while it was not _officially_ mandatory for all students to attend home games, the unofficial consequence of Coach Finstock remembering who you were just long enough to hunt you down in the halls and ask why you weren’t showing sufficient school spirit was enough to keep up a robust attendance rate in the Beacon Hills stands, yet still Derekalways managed to snag the best seat in the stands to view the benchwarmers over the actual game. But Derek was a _poet_. He was allowed a little artistic liberty. 

Just like it was allowed for him to gaze longingly at Stiles as he wrote in his notebook as he had throughout Freshman and Sophomore, Junior and now Senior year. Free form and odes and villanelles and haikus, he had filled dozens of them, cheap spirals to bookstore journals, cover to cover with words that he could never bring himself to say. His current notebook was one more akin to being a traditional journal than the dollar store college rule notebooks he would use on occasion, his eclectic collection of poetry vessels a consequence of his habit of writing in the first empty and suitable book he could find when the mood took him and not moving on until it was filled. And not all, but many of those words were about Stiles. 

This one was black leather bound, with a triskelion etched onto the cover. His Uncle Peter had picked it up for him on a trip to Seattle. Peter had laughed when he had given it to him, not cruelly, but in the way that he had where it seemed that he was honestly surprised that no one else was in on the joke, and said it was for his love notes. 

Though he would never actually do anything so crass as to bother or ask anything of Stiles. Stiles, who was so smart and kinetic, so beautiful and gregarious that he would never be interested in someone like Derek, even if Peter did say that he was finally growing into his ears. So what if his looks were getting, well, _looks_ , from underclassmen now. That didn’t mean that Stiles would ever want someone as stuck in his head as Derek was all the time, not when he could have someone who shone as brightly as he did, who could speak up and say whatever came to mind without the care or concern for how it would be interpreted, without the need to think everything through until the moment to speak had long passed. 

So he would write, everywhere and everything, and each time Stiles would smile at someone who wasn’t him he would clamp down on the sharp little pang he felt in his heart and remind himself that this was just the way things were meant to be, and that Stiles didn’t owe him anything, least of all himself. 

He saw Stiles and Scott appear at the edge of the sidewalk bordering the parking lot, the two having taken advantage of the Senior privilege of going off campus for lunch, and hastily looked back down to his notebook so he wouldn’t be so obvious in his attentions. 

He remained silent as Stiles and Scott walked past where he was sitting, careful to keep himself from openly staring, but taking in as much as he could while trying to remain unobtrusive, and schooled himself not to react as Stiles pulled Scott into a friendly hug. He ignored the familiar and sudden clench inside his chest, and only after they were both out of sight, Scott having (thankfully) pushed Stiles off of him, did Derek allow his pen to touch paper and write. 

_**a nothing surrounds me**_ ****

_**the only touch i can feel is a phantom of you**_ ****

_**an imagined sensation i cling to in the absence of reality**_ ****

_**crafted from the observation of those**_ ****

_**blessed to have felt your heat and hand**_ ****

_**my envy would frighten you away**_ ****

_**if you knew that i even was something to be seen**_

_**something alone and resigned to yearning**_

_**for nothing more than the press of your fingertip**_

_**to my pulse.**_ ****

_  
_Derek looked at what he had written, before he hurried into the school before his lunch period was over and he was late for class.

Maybe he was slipping a little into the creepy. But he knew some writers would kill for this kind of productivity, so maybe it wasn’t the worst kind. 

***** 

“If you ever get published,” Isaac mused from his seat on Derek’s left, tapping his pen against Derek’s notebook as they waited for their frequently ‘late’, if simply late rather than ‘negligent and hornier than a high schooler’ was what one should call it when they all knew that the daily delay was because their English teacher was calling a phone sex line, to arrive and actually teach the class. “They will probably give you all of the awards, and then all of the restraining orders. But to make it acceptable for a poet of your quality they would have to make it one of the most elegantly phrased orders ever. Like, ‘thou must keep thy person from coming within fifty aching yards-” 

“And that is why you are not the wordsmith of our troupe,” said Boyd, sliding down into the desk behind Isaac, his lips having the slightly swollen look that said he and Erica had had a little trouble saying goodbye for the morning’s block of classes. “That sounded like drunken Shakespeare calling a pornographic football game.” 

“I think I’m okay not having much poetic skill if it saves me from being a morose bastard like Hale over here.” 

“No, please, insult me more, my self esteem was growing dangerously high today anyway,” Derek grumbled, pulling his notebook off his desk and shoving it into his bag. 

“Aw c’mon Derek, you know I don’t mean it. I just don’t get why you keep doing this to yourself. You could try and talk to him, you could try and move on, you could try _anything_ and you sure as hell wouldn’t be any worse off than you are now. I worry sometimes,” Isaac said, his eyes wide and projecting complete sincerity like nobody’s business. This was one of the reasons why nobody with half a heart could stay mad at Isaac for long. And the only person who had lacked even that had been turned into the Sheriff’s department and sent upstate while Isaac stayed with the Hales for a stretch until his trust fund from his late mother and emancipated minor status could be straightened out. 

It was while he was still staying with them that Derek had first shown Isaac his poetry, pushing his embarrassment about the quality and content aside to prove to Isaac that he was trusted, and to give him power back. Even if it was just power over Derek, even though they both knew he would never use it, it was one small thing for him to wield and control while the bruises continued to fade. 

Isaac was the only one that Derek willingly showed his poetry to. His family and Boyd (and if Boyd knew something, Erica knew it too) would sneak glances, enough to know his subject of choice and to give some encouragement, but Isaac got full access. He was the one who understood that to Derek it was much more than an incredibly persistent crush. 

“I’m not sure if I can do that. I know that someday…but right now I just don’t think I can do it,” Derek said quietly as Isaac frowned and Boyd shook his head and sighed, right as their teacher finally raced into the room, face flushed and fly down, telling the class to turn to where they left off in Lord of the Flies. For once Derek welcomed the return to a bunch of obnoxious preteens succumbing to mob mentality on an island. 

***** 

Isaac and Boyd’s next class was clear across campus and they always had to bolt as soon as the bell rang, while Derek was able to adopt a bit more leisurely pace as he gathered up his things to go to Economics. Waiting, but not waiting, for him by the door was Lydia Martin. To a casual observer she had merely taken her time getting up and was simply adjusting the strap on her bag, but Derek knew it was a show and that she was in all likelihood waiting to unleash some appropriately scathing words on the book. 

When he started high school he would never have imagined Lydia so much as having the time of day for him. Not that it was anything he had ever had even the most remote interest in, but the idea of it had just been such a foreign concept that he couldn’t help but marvel at the change now. Somehow in the course of the past year she and Derek had developed a rapport of a kind, partially brought on by the fact that her Papillion Prada and his Newfoundland Warren were utterly enamored with each other after one meeting at the dog park, despite a well over one hundred and fifty pound size difference. 

The other part was that after Jackson broke her heart one too many times before taking off to some ritzy boarding school in Connecticut, she decided to throw all pretences of being anything other than the purest distillation of Lydia Martin to the wayside and started doing whatever she wanted. She stopped playing dumb in class and instead reveled in every A+ paper she received instead of hiding it away underneath Cosmo magazines and makeup before anyone could see. She shut every boy who asked her out down cold, saying that if she wanted someone to be a dick to her she could just order a silicone one in neon purple online. And she stopped talking to those she ‘should’ talk to if she didn’t find them interesting, instead talking to those she ‘shouldn’t’ if she did. 

And whether through his own merits, or maybe just the fact that according to Lydia Prada would become insufferable if she didn’t get a chance to play with Warren at least once a week, Derek was now on her ‘talk to’ list. 

“So, during class did you by any chance scribble out a little snippet of verse about how this would be the one time it would be more enjoyable to read a book where every character is actually dying of dysentery instead of just wishing that they all were?” Lydia asked with a grimace, like she was personally plotting a way to get revenge on William Golding for writing it, and therefore making her read it, despite his deceased state. 

“I’m saving that up for the final,” Derek replied. To his surprise he _liked_ the new, the real, the whatever one wanted to call it Lydia. When she had first started talking to him as their respective dogs frolicked he hadn’t known how to react, her initiation of conversation not meshing with his prior knowledge of her at all, and while he had gotten over it eventually, at first he had actively resented her. He knew it wasn’t fair or reasonable, but he also knew why. 

It was because she was the one Stiles had been in love with for so very long. 

Even if his tendency to proclaim it had markedly dropped off in the past year or so, Derek didn’t think for a minute that he was over her. Stiles was nothing if not devoted to those he cared about. 

But after their first real conversation he knew he couldn’t keep nurturing that completely irrational and unwarranted dislike for someone. 

“Ooh, daring to commit an original thought to paper on a test. How ambitious and ultimately foolhardy when we all know Sun hands out the same exact exam every year and expects us to cheat with the exact same answers from years past so he doesn’t have to actually take any time grading.” 

“I honestly do not get how half of the teachers at this school got tenure,” Derek said as they walked down the hall toward their next class. 

“I have theories,” she said lightly, curling some of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger, playing at the coquette again as she still did when the mood suited her. “But none that I would want to sully your poor innocent virginal ears with.” 

“What makes you think my ears are so virginal?” Derek retorted as they reached the door to the classroom, just in time for Stiles to arrive as well from the opposite direction and catch at least the tail end of Derek’s sentence. 

“Did I arrive in time for the best or most awkward conversation ever?” Stiles asked, his face breaking into a wide grin. Derek always hoped to earn a smile from Stiles, but not when he was saying things like…what would Stiles think…even if it was _true,_ still…He felt his face and his ears, his _stupid_ ears grow hot and hurried inside to his seat, not answering Stiles. 

“Umm, did I…” Stiles began, obviously unsure how to continue at Derek’s reaction. He wished he could just bluff and be flippant with him the way he was with Isaac or Lydia, or signal his discomfort in a more dignified manner that Boyd was an expert at interpreting and respecting, but _no…_ he bent his head down under the pretext of rummaging through his bag to hide his body’s betrayal tinting his face crimson until it could subside. 

“Did you what, Stiles? Interrupt a private conversation for which you did not know the context of? Why yes you did,” Lydia said with a scathing coolness perfected from years of being the Alpha female of Beacon Hills. 

“I wasn’t trying to upset anyone, I just figured that if there was bonding going on over awkward sexual encounters or lack thereof I could-” 

“The only one going to be talking about awkward sexual encounters today is me!” Bellowed Finstock as he pushed into the room past Stiles, Lydia having already taken a few prudent steps away from the doorway in anticipation of his arrival. “Now everyone get in your seats. Today we are going to discuss the economic structure found within the musical ‘Urinetown! The Musical!’ I hope you all both did the reading and listened to the original cast recording over the weekend, because if not I have the sheet music right here for the first person who is unprepared to sing a solo of my choice. And I do not mean half assing your way through it, if you sing in my class I expect you to COMMIT.” 

Greenberg was unprepared, but did a surprisingly decent job of performing “Don’t Be the Bunny”, though hearing Finstock fill in for both the chorus and Hope’s lines, the latter in a falsetto, was more than a little unnerving. 

After all, there had been a reason Finstock had been banned from ever having anything to do with the spring musical ever again. 

While that was going on Stiles half scooted in his chair, half walked on his knees the two desks length from where he was sitting to Derek’s spot. 

“Hey man, I’m sorry if I pissed you off somehow,” he whispered as Finstock warbled about how it didn’t make sense for a bunny to be at a toll booth. “I dunno, I just heard ‘awkward virginity conversation’, and if there is one situation I could offer my expertise on, feeling awkward and virginal around Lydia is-” 

“I don’t like Lydia like that. We were joking about Mr. Sun, I wasn’t actually talking about…that.” Derek could hardly believe that this was the most amount of words he had had the opportunity to exchange with Stiles for weeks and it was about…and Stiles thought that _Derek and Lydia_ …and Stiles though Derek was angry with him… 

This was a nightmare. 

“Oh, okay, I thought…I mean I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought that, I dunno, I could give you ‘getting over the Goddess that is Lydia Martin’ tips and commiserating over our untapped status, but I guess, I read the situation wrong. And I kinda forget sometimes that not everyone is as comfortable with my idiosyncratic thought process as Scott is and that it can kinda piss people off,” Stiles said with a rueful chuckle. 

“It’s, it’s alright, I’m not-” Derek began, mortified that Stiles thought that Derek was angry at him when really all he wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Stiliski! Why the hell are you out of your seat?!” Finstock bellowed, thankfully forsaking the falsetto to do so. “Get up here and sing ‘Run, Freedom, Run!’” 

“That song doesn’t even deal with any of the socio economics of the play, it’s just a very rousing gospel number,” Stiles grumbled as he rose, casually placing his hand on Derek’s should briefly to balance himself before walking up to the front to take the place of a relieved Greenberg. 

Derek felt a rush of heat wash over him. It was a nothing touch to Stiles, he knew it was, but it was also exactly what he had been wishing for that morning. Now he wished he hadn’t felt it, that simple press of warmth, because now he needed _more._

As soon as class was over he fled, with only a short nod to a frowning Lydia, and was soon hiding out in the secluded corner of the library where he preferred to spend his free period. 

It was only once he was sitting down, his bag on the desk in front to further hide himself from view, did he think back on to what Stiles had actually said before Finstock called him up. 

‘…untapped status…’ 

‘… _getting over_ the Goddess that is Lydia Martin…’ 

If Stiles hadn’t been telling Derek that the status of his virginity was definitely still intact then, well, Derek didn’t have any idea what else he could have meant. Derek had always more or less assumed so based on Stiles’ devotion to Lydia and the unfathomable to Derek lack of interest the rest of the student body seemed to show to Stiles, but he didn’t know why the confirmation of his supposition gave him a small thrill. 

Alright, he did know. There was something heartening about them having something like that in common. It was silly and kind of stupid, and he knew it wouldn’t matter if that hadn’t been the case, but…it was something that Derek hadn’t known that they shared before. 

And as for the other things Stiles said…Derek could hardly let himself hope that when Stiles talked about ‘getting over’ Lydia that he was talking about a past occurrence instead of an ongoing process. 

It seemed like so much to ask, so selfish when Derek was himself so familiar with cultivating an unrequited love against all advice and common sense, but he just couldn’t help it. 

He knew in his heart that it was still completely hopeless for him, but that if Stiles was over Lydia it was at least easier to dream, to _pretend_ it wasn’t hopeless. 

He unzipped his bag and pulled out his notebook and opened up to a fresh page. He knew he really should be getting a jumpstart on the math sets they had due every Thursday instead of putting it off until the last minute like he usually did, but after his talk, if a few words exchanged while Greenberg and Finstock warbled at the front of the class could be called a proper talk, his mind was in no place to deal with imaginary numbers. 

He clicked his pen and bent over his notebook to write. 

**_I am bewitched by the cadence_**

**_The rise, the fall, of your dear voice,_**

**_Seeps within, pulls my heart to dance_**

**_I am bewitched._**  
  


**_My blood pumps in time to rejoice_**

**_Emboldened by the slimmest chance_**

**_My affections bereft of choice_**  
  


**_Words woven to bind me, entrance_**

**_Stole from me my own lonely voice_**

**_So dumbly I await your glance_**

**_I am bewitched._**

He was so engrossed in finishing, as well as chastising himself for resorting to using a soft rhyme as well as the same rhyme twice, that he hadn’t realized someone had come up his table. 

“Can I sit here?” 

Derek looked and saw Allison Argent standing at the edge of the table across from him, already setting down her bag as she asked. 

“Apparently,” Derek said, knowing he was being a little rude, but he was feeling a little unsettled that he hadn’t noticed her come up. What if she had seen what he was writing? Not that this one mentioned Stiles by name or any specifics, but she was still friends with Stiles so his irrational fear had reared its head. 

“Sorry,” Allison whispered as she leaned across the table. “I know you usually like to work by yourself back here, but there are almost no good sightlines to this table, and Matt has been taking pictures for ‘yearbook’ of only me all period, and I am saving me breaking his nose for when we’re not on school property.” 

“No, it’s ok,” Derek said feeling like a bit of a heel for more than one reason. Allison looked at him. 

“I think I might ask Stiles to talk to his dad about this for me if Matt doesn’t get it through his stupid head to stop, but I almost want him to give me an excuse to put him in the market for some rhinoplasty first. I mean there are ways to be respectful when you have a crush on someone, and a telephoto lens is not one of them.” Derek swallowed hard, a wave of shame washing over him, not noticing Allison flick her eyes down to his notebook before going back up to his face. “I mean there are plenty of appropriate and even romantic ways to express yourself when you have a crush. Just not Matt’s way.” 

“Yeah,” Derek said, stuffing his notebook in his bag as the bell rang. Allison gave him a smile and a wave goodbye which Derek awkwardly returned as he set off for his next class. 

***** 

The day finally over Derek went home, ready to commune with Warren on the porch swing, made double sure to be sturdy enough for three adults or one adult and one Warren to sit on. 

Warren eagerly ran up to greet him as he rode his bike up the drive, as Laura had pulled rank to use the car they technically were supposed to share to commute to the county college about an hour away to knock out all her gen eds on the cheap. Derek had learned to deal with it and was just glad that unlike some other big dogs Warren was aware of his size and didn’t accidently throw him off his bike. Derek finished biking up to the house and lifted his bike in its habitual spot resting against the house as Warren bounded up the steps of the front porch and onto the swing, eager for some ‘Derek time’. 

“Gimme a minute first, okay boy?” Derek said with a scritch behind Warren’s ears before digging out his key and going into the house. He dropped of his bag on the inside of the door and went to the kitchen to get the pills Doctor Deaton had prescribed when Derek had taken Warren for his checkup about a week ago and some cheese which he wrapped around the pill before going back outside and joining Warren on the swing. 

“We gotta keep you good and healthy buddy,” Derek said as he held out his hand so Warren could gobble down the pill disguised as a treat, which he did with slobbery gusto. Derek chuckled and wiped his hand on Warren’s fur as Warren settled into his lap as much as he could. 

“Is it easier being a dog Warren? Or would being in love be as confusing and hurtful for you too?” 

Warren looked at him as soulfully as any dog ever could, and licked Derek’s nose. 

“Good to know Warren,” Derek said as he swung idly back and forth and continued to pet Warren, determinedly not wondering how Warren and Stiles would get along. 

“Good to know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you may have surmised, the poems in this chapter were a free verse and a roundel! Woot! Poetry!
> 
> And as for all the Urinetown references, I was super close to actually trying to find a way to use it as the basis for my final paper senior year of high school for politics/econ before I decided to swap to the PMRC hearings, as Frank Zappa, Dee Snyder, and John Denver all on the same team was too good to pass up.
> 
>  
> 
> [Urinetown the Musical from the Tony Awards for those who are curious](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZV431zhXA4)


	2. Pentina, Sonnet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than originally intended, (also a minor oops w/ posting a draft before i meant to. sigh) but unfortunately 'stuffs' happen.  
> Also, my lovely previous beta had to bow out, one of those unplanned circumstances, and though I will miss her dearly for the duration of this fic, the too, too kind and fabulous Too_Old has agreed to look things over so you all can get the typo free version you deserve! As always any and all remaining mistakes are my own.

Stiles slunk out of Economics pretty pissed off, even if he had gotten a small round of applause for his rendition of ‘Run, Freedom, Run.’ It wasn’t so much the fact that he had had to get up and sing in front of the class so much as the _timing_ of it. 

Stiles had always liked Derek, even if they had never had much to do with each other throughout the entirety of their acquaintance. He was someone who was always there and…Stiles liked him. Sure he was kinda quiet and all, but he was always writing, which bespoke deep thoughts. And when Stiles saw him hanging out with Isaac and Boyd, all chill and relaxed and smiling, he seemed like someone he would probably like to get to know a little more. 

And somewhere in the past few months he had started to feel like he would like to get to know Derek a _whole_ lot more. 

He didn’t know exactly why it was. Maybe it was because during the start of the summer between Junior and Senior year after Jackson had left Lydia had finally sat him down and gave him bulleted charts detailing all of the ways that, while she thought they could probably be very good friends, it could never possibly be anything more than that, barring any of the the post apocalyptic scenarios she included at the end. That had pretty much confirmed that Lydia would be an _awesome_ friend and that maybe it was time to try and let go of his years long infatuation. And surprisingly, when he did so it was a lot easier than he had thought it would have been for his heart to ease her from the compartment that said ‘true love’ to ‘awesome bud who sometimes talks about giving me makeovers.’ It had still stung for a while, had still left him feeling heartsick at first, but…then it was pretty okay. He could see a future past the once seemingly insurmountable Lydia Martin. And that change had cleared enough room in his head and heart to start looking at other people and actually _seeing_ them. So maybe that was it. 

Maybe it was that round of spin the bottle during Lydia’s Christmas in July party that somehow ended up with him swapping spit with three different guys, establishing that if nothing else Stiles definitely _wanted_ to be attractive to gay guys. 

Maybe it was because Derek had really grown into his ears and then some. 

Or maybe it was because at some point back in September either a teacher or Derek himself had submitted a poem to a youth literary journal that was among the reading materials set outside of Morrel’s office as he waited for his appointment with her to discuss his college application plans. And as Stiles’ reading tastes tended toward the eclectic he picked it up as a bit of a reprieve from the standard guidance counselor fare of ‘Peer Pressure and You!’ 

He had opened it to a random page and saw Derek’s name at the top of the page and smiled at the title, ‘A Dog’s Pentina.’ 

  
  
**I remember when you were just a pup**

**And how you were so tiny in my arms**

**Your tongue darted forth, pink from out the black**

**To lick my face, claim me as your family**

**After years without I wasn’t alone.**

  
**Even with others I was still alone**

**Love outside not meant for me, but a pup**

**Guileless and pure, longing for family**

**Soon you were too large to hold in my arms**

**An affectionate great shadow of black**

  
**A child I would see the night, fear the black**

**Knowing that I would always be alone**

**No one would reach to hold me in their arms**

**But though you’ve no arms, the warmth of a pup**

**Keeps me, without judgment, like family**

  
**You grow old faster than your family**

**I fear I will soon see gray in your black**

**In my mind’s eye you are always a pup**

**Never content ever to be alone**

**Always having a home within my arms**

  
**So grows the strength and muscle in my arms**

**Strong to hold you tightly, my family**

**Fearing I will be not but still alone**

**Anytime’s too soon to lose you to black**

**When in both our hearts you are still a pup**

  
**A pup two hundred pounds asleep in my arms**

**With your black fur we are family, never alone.**

  


  
And Stiles hadn’t felt that pressure between and around his eyes, that tell tale sign that if he didn’t collect himself he might start to tear up, not over a poem about a dog. Of course not. 

Even if he could feel the love in every line, even if he felt jealous and in awe that someone could put into words the affection and fear that came from loving anyone and knowing that they would leave before you were ready for them to go… 

It was just a poem about a dog. 

But maybe that was when Stiles had realized he wanted to become closer to Derek, after that small glimpse inside that told Stiles that even if Derek wasn’t exactly like him, he could understand. 

And Stiles wouldn’t deny the thought that someone loving him enough to write poetry about him was more than a little appealing. 

But Derek didn’t really seem to be all that interested in Stiles. Sure, Stiles had caught him looking at him a handful of times, but when one not so inadvertently causes an explosion in Chemistry class, because fuck you Mr. Harris, that’s why, people were going to be keeping their eye on him in that class. It didn’t mean anything. 

And Stiles knew they had more in common, some overlapping tastes in music and movies and things like that, but there really wasn’t a good way to bring it up in order to start a conversation that didn’t involve Stiles admitting that hey, remember that field trip to the planetarium when I was sitting diagonally behind you on the bus? I had my earbuds in but I had the music off so no one could tell that I was trying to listen to you and Isaac talk. 

He knew in retrospect that he had skirted the line of creepy when all of his affections resided in the form of Lydia, and even if that hadn’t been one of the points she had brought up in her ‘just friends’ talk, he had no intention of starting off on the wrong foot by admitting to Derek that he had been trying to do recon on his interests. 

Not that he was going to stop doing at least some recon though. Some things were just too ingrained in his nature to really say goodbye to. 

Which was why Econ class had started out so…promising was not the right word, not after Stiles had put his foot in his mouth. Yeah trying to insert himself into the conversation before class had been the wrong move, but he had been buoyed by the presence of Lydia hoping that she would have his back, the thought that she would have Derek’s instead never crossing his mind. Not that it was a bad thing of course just…it had been reassuring to hear that Derek viewed her as strictly platonic. 

But the fact was that even though Stiles had messed up, that meant that he got to, definitely in his eyes got to rather than had to, apologize _._ He had the perfect opening to go up and talk to Derek, and even if it had to start out as a mea culpa, Stiles was sure he could parlay that into a more solid conversation. All of the possible topics were there, how he and Lydia became buds, how long would it be until Mr. Sun actually came into class without his pants, these were _golden_ conversations that they could have, that could lead to other conversations, that could lead to Stiles tracing the shell of Derek’s ear with his tongue…and then Finstock had to continue with his cult Broadway shows tangentially connected to economics kick. And fine, he should have waited until after class to talk to Derek, but he really wanted to get the apology squared away as soon as possible, and even after being forced to perform he figured he could pick up the conversational thread with Derek. 

But the dude had bolted as soon as class let out, and even his wallowing in rejection had been cut short as Lydia came up behind him and whacked him on the shoulder as he trudged to their shared AP Calculus class. 

“You are aware that interrupting private conversations is generally considered quite uncouth, right?” Lydia asked with an elegant flip of her hair. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just-” 

“I mean, I do admit that Derek looks very fetching when he blushes if one is into that sort of thing, but if one is, they should figure out another way to bring it out that doesn’t involve embarrassing him and interrupting _me_.” 

“I just wanted to talk,” Stiles said as they reached their classroom. 

“We talk plenty. Or did you not mean with me?” Lydia asked quizzically, as if she honestly was search of confirmation one way or the other. 

“Look, I said sorry to Derek in class, I’m saying it to you know, okay? It was just an impulse, you know how I am,” Stiles said with a dismissive wave of his hand, not wanting Lydia of all people to know that he had hitched his affections onto someone else completely uninterested in him. So far he had even kept it from Scott and Allison, meaning he had kept it from Scott so he hadn’t been able to share it with Allison. 

“And I know that you’re not so much ‘as you are’ as some people think,” Lydia said delicately sitting down at her desk. 

“Whatever. How about we just agree it was a momentary lapse of social skills and you tell me what you got on question seven. That one was a pain in the ass.” 

Lydia frowned but still acquiesced and pulled out her notebook and went over the homework with Stiles until class officially begun. 

But during class he couldn’t focus, his mind drifting over to Scott and Allison and thinking how great it would be to be like them, and for once to have the person he liked like him back. 

***** 

After school let out Stiles was ready to just go home and declare the day a mixed bag at best, trying to accentuate the positive in his own mind when he didn’t even completely believe it himself, when he found himself ambushed at his locker by Scott, Allison, and Lydia. 

“This doesn’t make me feel ill at ease in the slightest, no-sirree-bob,” Stiles said as he looked at the faces surrounding him, Lydia with her classic practiced ‘disinterested but totally interested’ expression, and Allison and Scott who were smiling and practically radiating…something that Stiles did not feel one hundred percent comfortable trying to categorize. 

“As you shouldn’t because we are here with only your best interests in mind,” Lydia said coolly. “After your total failure at observing basic social etiquette today, something that you really aren’t much more prone to do than anyone else despite your jokes, I decided that perhaps it was time for some information pooling.” 

Stiles looked accusingly at Scott and Allison, both still grinning in the face of Stiles’ glare. “I’m not sure what you two said, but I’m pretty sure we are no longer brothers or ‘down the road when we are no longer teenagers and established in life in-laws’ anymore.” 

“No, Stiles, this is good, this is good. That you have a thing for Derek now. I mean I was kinda beginning to suspect something was up and after talking with Lydia she kinda confirmed…I mean you do, right?” Scott asked, still looking pleased as punch for whatever reason, because dude, a bro should not look so happy at Stiles having yet another massive unrequited crush just because he was right about it. 

“Yeah, I do, but guys, the way things are looking this is just going to be another,” he gestured at Lydia who inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I mean, today was probably the most we’ve talked to each other since high school started and I was less than smooth.” 

“But we’re pretty sure we know something you don’t,” Allison said, before sliding her bag off her shoulder to look for something within. While she rummaged Lydia spoke again. 

“Look, Derek is a friend of mine too whether you know that or not,” and before that day Stiles had really not, “and I want to do right by both of you. Honestly, playing mind games is much more enjoyable when I have zero fondness for everyone involved, so you don’t have to worry about that.” 

“I still do not get what you guys are talking about.” Aside from the confirmation that Stiles was doomed to live forever alone and surrounded by crazy people, he really hadn’t gotten all that much out of the conversation so far. 

“Well see, we suspected about the both of you, but we,” Scott gestured to himself and Allison who had now found whatever folder she was looking for it and was leafing through it, “were kinda hesitant, because you’ve said before that we can kinda go into romance overdrive, even though the evidence was _super_ convincing-” 

“What evidence-” 

“But then Lydia came and talked it over with us last period-” 

“Ah-ha! Got it!” Allison crowed, holding a photocopy of what looked like a handwritten poem aloft. 

“And then we were totally, completely, beyond a doubt sure!” Scott exclaimed excitedly. 

“Wha-” 

“Read this,” Allison giddily directed thrusting the paper into his hands. 

Stiles took the paper from her gingerly, while Allison, Scott, and even Lydia looked at him eagerly imploring him to read whatever was written. Deciding that this was not the time to take a stand, and genuinely curious what his obviously delusional friends were going on about, he sighed and began to read. 

  
  
_**A constellation but not of the stars**_

_**That lies speckled across your fair form,**_

_**So otherwise untouched by marks or scars**_

_**Beckons me like a siren through a storm.**_

  
_**The path from one t’other I must seek**_

_**To see what glories your face does harbor;**_

_**Mysteries hidden upon your dear cheek**_

_**Secret stories to inflame my ardor.**_

  
_**I long to touch my tongue, gentle to trace**_

_**In passion and tenderness spot to spot,**_

_**All across the beauty that is your face;**_

_**Though in all sadness, truth, ‘tis not my lot.**_

  
_**I a broken astronomer so trapped**_

_**Never to reach what I strive to make mapped.**_

  
  
Stiles read over the poem twice, his fingers crinkling the paper where he gripped it tight before looking back up at his friends. 

“Is this-” 

“Yes, it _has_ to be,” Allison said. 

“No, but see, this doesn’t make any sense because it really sounds like this could be about _me_. Kinda. I mean just the mole things, not the-” 

“Stiles, it’s about you,” Lydia confirmed. 

“And Derek wrote-how the hell did you guys even get this?” 

“You know how Derek has this monster size Newfoundland dog?” Scott asked. 

“Yes, I am aware that he has a dog,” Stiles answered, because oh boy did he know that Derek had a dog that he doted on, even if he had yet to see a single hair off its tail. 

“Well Warren, that’s the dog, had an appointment with Dr. Deaton last week, and Allison was visiting me, and Derek always goes in with Warren to make sure that he doesn’t get nervous, and he left his book bag outside on the counter-” 

“Breathe Scott,” Allison directed reaching out to touch his arm. 

“Yeah,” Scott complied, taking a steadying breath. “So me and Allison may have accidently knocked the bag over-” 

“I can’t imagine how,” Lydia said sotto voce. 

“Anyway, so this notebook fell out and opened to that poem, and I know that it was kinda wrong to read it…and photocopy it after we read it, but it was there, and once we read it we were like almost completely sure that it was about you. I mean, Derek looks at you a lot of the time so him writing poems about you wasn’t such a stretch right?” Scott asked like it was common knowledge that Derek was scoping Stiles out on a regular basis when it was most definitely _not._

“So we copied it and put the book back. But then we started feeling really bad about having violated Derek’s privacy so we decided not to show you, but then after the three of us compared notes and talked everything over, we decided that this would be a case where it would actually be in everyone’s best interests including Derek’s,” said Allison with a confident nod. 

“You are all very good at rationalizing,” Stiles said still reeling slightly after the info dump and _the poetry devoted to him_. 

“Yes, we, and myself in particular, are amazing,” Lydia said. “The point is that Derek very obviously does have a thing for you. Now the question is are you serious about him? Because if this is just a passing curiosity for you I will not let you lead him on. That would be a cruelty.” And Lydia knew all about the difference between being cruel to be kind versus the casual and more lasting cruelty of letting something unrequited fester. 

“Yeah,” said Stiles, thinking about Derek’s eyes and ears, his smile and too infrequent laughter, the knowledge gleaned from his father about just how incredible Derek and his family were when Isaac needed them, and the paper he still gripped in his hand, as well as a slim poetry booklet he may have lifted from outside Morrel’s office, and the words contained on and within. 

“I am completely serious about him.” 

***** 

A plan was soon formulated, Allison and Lydia ensuring that it didn’t get too convoluted, and Scott chipping in ten dollars for the war chest as Stiles was a little short as they wanted to get things moving along ASAP, Stiles’ diminishing discretionary income be damned. 

He went home, the poem uncrinkled as much as possible from all of his manhandling and slid into his binder, only to be taken out and smoothed once again across his desk once in the privacy of his room. He read over it three more times before pulling out his phone and sending a text to Danny asking him to meet with him before school. 

Plan ‘Get Stiles a Poet’ initiated. 

***** 

“So you want me to swap lab partners with you. Now why would I want to do that?” asked Danny from his seat on one of the benches outside of the school. “Derek does his fair share of the work well and without pitching a fit, whereas I’d say Greenberg was a walking testament to the danger of sustaining concussions in academic athletics if I didn’t already know that he’d always been that way. Also, Derek has never drunk dialed me thinking I was Coach, another point in Derek’s favor and a reason for me not to swap with you.” 

“Ok, so not sure if you remember, but at one point I may have tried to grill you on whether I was attractive to gay guys…?” 

Danny sighed, “I honestly did try to block that conversation from my memory. But yes, good for you that you have embraced your…homosexuality? Bisexuality?” 

“Let’s go with bisexuality.” 

“Mazel tov. And I will also say that I am very pleased that apparently Derek is somewhere along the ‘Friends of Dorothy’ end of the spectrum. He’s really grown into his ears these past few years.” 

“Hey!” 

“Relax, I got Kyle waiting for me at UC Davis. I’m just saying I like to look. I’m not going to try and jump your very first man crush in the hallway. But I’m also not going to play ‘fairy’ matchmaker for you two either. Not my style, especially not at the expense of having to give up what is essentially the perfect lab partner.” 

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.” 

Danny looked at Stiles assessingly. “You have the cash?” 

Stiles pulled out his wallet, mentally thanking Scott once again for his generous contributions to the cause. “We have an agreement?” 

“I think so, yeah,” Danny said with a smile as Stiles handed him the money. “Any thoughts on what I should tell Derek? Just so I won’t step in any of what is sure to be something I want no involvement in past right now?” 

“I dunno, just tell him it’s some weird edict from Coach? He had us singing show tunes in Econ yesterday, trying to extend his crazy pants influence into other classes isn’t beyond him,” Stiles offered with a slight grimace. 

“That’s true,” Danny agreed with another sigh. “At least he got us to States?” 

“Yeah, States was good,” Stiles said rocking back and forth on his heels for a few beats before remembering he had to know go update Scott, Allison, and Lydia in person on the first step of the plan as promised. “Anyway, thanks for all the help with my big gay romance!” he called out as he took a few steps backwards toward the building. 

“Don’t make me regret it!” Danny shouted back. 

Stiles gave him a jaunty wave before turning to go find his friends. 

Things were coming together so fast after months of just considering and staring, and admittedly some very enjoyable fantasies during ‘personal time,’ but for some reason it didn’t feel like things were moving too quickly. Instead he felt like he was finally catching up with where he was supposed to be. 

And even if he couldn’t write poetry he was going to do his damndest to make Derek feel the way his poems had made Stiles feel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poems in this chapter were obviously a pentina and a sonnet. As someone who's had to take a fair amount of classes dealing with Shakespeare in her day the sonnet wasn't too unfamiliar, but man, a pentina is harder than it looks dudes. For realies.
> 
> Also I want a Newfie puppy like nobody's business. They are so smart and cuddly and patient and full of love! Just really not cut out for apartment living :(


	3. Haiku, Villanelle, Haiku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again beta'd by the too sweet Too_Old. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Derek walked into his first period Chemistry class determined to be relaxed around Stiles, make it as clear that everything was cool regarding the day before, and then…then… 

Derek wasn’t exactly sure what he would say to Stiles, but he was sure he could think of something that didn’t end up being completely mortifying for himself. 

Or at least cautiously optimistic that he could. 

Isaac may have used that phrase a few times mixed in with some other phrases of encouragement when Derek grabbed him before homeroom to confide in him, despite having intended to keep everything to himself the day before. But as soon as he caught a half glimpse of Stiles in the hallway he needed _someone_ to talk to about it that he could trust completely and wasn’t oversized with aquatic inclinations and a member of the canine family. 

Isaac had basically just told Derek a variation of what he usually did, mainly that Derek should just go for it, his enthusiasm that Derek might actually get up the nerve to make a move tempered and reined in by his knowledge of Derek’s character, causing Isaac to force himself to hedge slightly with the ‘cautious’ placed before ‘optimism’. 

Isaac really was the best friend Derek could have ever hoped for, though he probably didn’t need to offer to buy Derek any condoms so loudly, even if the only people that heard had been a recently arrived Boyd and Erica. 

Derek went to his normal seat in Harris’ class, not even remotely tempted to take out his poetry notebook to see if anything came to him as Harris was a teacher who definitely favored the ‘confiscate and read aloud to shame in front of the class’ method of preventing any student from daring to focus on anything except chemistry and how much they hated him. 

He got out the note he used for class and flipped through it idly for a moment before hearing Danny clear his throat behind him. 

“Hey, what’s up Danny?” Derek asked, a little confused why his lab partner was hovering instead of sitting down in his normal spot. 

“Nothing much, just is it ok if I pair up with Greenberg for the next couple labs? Nothing at all to do with you, believe me, just…” 

“Is it some weird thing Coach Finstock is telling you to do even though this isn’t his class and lacrosse season is over?” Derek hazarded. 

Danny sighed with relief and understanding. “Got it in one man. What can I say, Coach is…I don’t want to say crazy but no other terms come to mind.” 

“The only ones I can think of are all synonyms for crazy anyway. But yeah, no problem, we can switch up partners.” 

“Thanks for being so chill about this Derek, you’re really doing me a solid. So I’ll send Stilinski over here to pair up with you, alright?” Danny said with one of his trademark smiles and turning around as Derek felt the blood drain from his face. He knew that Stiles and Greenberg were lab partners this year, mainly by virtue of Stiles having his wisdom teeth pulled the day that everyone chose for that semester. 

And remembering that did not make Derek creepy. 

Just observant. 

Derek kept telling himself that as he watched Danny talk to a confused looking Greenberg and a nonchalant looking Stiles who was getting up and walking over to where Derek was sitting and hoping he was more successful in hiding his minor burst of panic than he was sure he actually was. 

“So hey, Danny clear everything with you? It’s all good?” Stiles asked with a smile as he set his bag on the lab table and sat down next to Derek. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, wondering how the hell he was going to get through the class without accidently burning off his fingerprints or setting off a fire alarm. “Yeah, it’s all good.” 

“Awesome man! I mean, I wouldn’t want it to be ungood for you. I want things with you to be solidly on the good side.” 

“I…I appreciate that?” Derek replied feeling a little confused by Stiles’ demeanor, but also warmed inside by his words beyond what would seem reasonable. “I want things to be good with-for you too.” 

Stiles smiled and leaned over closer to whisper into Derek’s ear as Harris walked into the room, his usual contempt and disdain for all humanity emanating off him like always. “Just giving you fair warning that Harris hates my guts so you may catch some overflow from that.” 

And Derek should not feel his pulse quicken and his body go tingly at such an innocuous and unromantic statement, _but the delivery method_ , Stiles so close to him that he could smell the mint of his toothpaste and a mild citrusy scent from what must be his shampoo, to say nothing of the hot puff of his breath against Derek’s ear. Derek clamped down, for the time being at least, on the thought of Stiles giving his ear a little nip… 

Stiles had leaned back, a slightly concerned expression on his face like he was waiting for a reaction while all those thoughts raced through Derek’s mind. 

And when Harris turned around to start writing on the board, Derek, suddenly emboldened for no real reason that he could define beyond Stiles was _there_ , and he had done it first so it must be okay, leaned over in a mirror of Stiles from moments before and whispered in his ear, stopping is lips not even two inches away. 

“It’s okay. He’s a dick.” 

Derek leaned back and faced the front of the class, but not before seeing Stiles smile broadly like he had said just the right thing. 

Derek started taking notes, hoping that they would make sense when he read over them later, because no facts were going to be making their way past Stiles’ smile or the feel of his breath on Derek’s for awhile yet. 

***** 

Chemistry class seemed to move at a very different pace than it normally did, a side benefit of paying no attention whatsoever to Harris and instead being hyper aware of the feel of Stiles’ knee against his own after he had at one point midway through the class scooted his seat closer to Derek to get a better look at the board. 

When class did end Derek was a little unsure of what to do as he also had his next class, AP World History with Stiles, and he wasn’t sure if he should just go or if he should wait or- 

“C’mon Derek, let’s go learn about stuff so we won’t be doomed to repeat it. Though how I personally would be able to recreate Japan’s period of isolation I don’t know. But still, knowledge!” Stiles said with a smile and beckoned for Derek to follow him, which he did with a slightly shyer smile of his own. 

“So,’ Stiles said as they walked down the hall together, their shoulders occasionally touching as they maneuvered through the crush of students around them and Derek was determined to act cool, it was just brushed knees and shoulders, it wasn’t even like he had felt even so much as a square centimeter of Stiles skin…“Does tomorrow sound good for getting a start on the out of class lab work to you or would another day be better? And do you have a preference of your place or mine, because I’m cool with whichever.” 

“Um, tomorrow’s fine, but if we’re going ou-getting started right after school I’m usually the first one home so I can check in on Warren, that’s my dog-” 

“No, yeah, that’s cool, that’s great, I’d totally love to meet your dog!” Stiles blurted out enthusiastically, an eager expression on his face. 

“You sound like you really like dogs,” Derek said laughing at the excitement on Stiles’ face. 

“Ah, yeah, that’s me, friend of the canines. I…I bet your dog is the best though,” Stiles said as he raked his hand through his hair, while Derek tried to figure out whether the lighting in the section of the hallway they were just in was odd or whether Stiles’ cheeks had pinked for some reason. 

He decided on the lighting as they reached the classroom. 

“Oh hey, before I forget give me your phone,” Stiles said holding out his hand in a ‘gimme’ gesture. Derek obliged as nonchalantly as he was able while a choir inside his heart sang out that he and Stiles were actually exchanging numbers, even if it was just for a school project. 

“Okay, so there’s mine. Text me yours so we can stay in touch better, alright?” Stiles asked as he handed Derek back his phone. 

“Alright,” said Derek as overcome with a sudden inspiration he typed in a message to Stiles’ obvious confusion at expecting just a quick throwaway text. However his confusion turned to realization and a delighted laugh once Derek sent the message. 

  
  
**soon the morrow comes**

**in the woods a beast you’ll meet**

**plan to be drooled on.**

  
  
“Dude, you just sent me a haiku about your dog didn’t you?” Stiles asked still smiling wide as the bell rang and they started to move toward their seats, Stiles in the second row and Derek in the forth directly behind him. 

“I thought it was appropriate both for class and the texting format,” Derek replied as he went to his seat. 

He was glowing so much at having apparently done just that right thing after all of his worry that he would never be able to get himself to actually interact with Stiles like a normal person instead of just looking on from a distance that he didn’t even hear Stiles whisper to himself “I knew I’d like you even more.” 

***** 

“So when’s the wedding?” Isaac asked. “I assume I’ll be your best man, and Scott will be Stiles’, and then during the reception me Scott and Allison will all have a drunken threesome and it will be a joyous event for all involved.” 

Derek glared at his best friend. “We just talked a little and exchanged numbers for class. Don’t be using me as an excuse to write porn scenarios from just that.” Derek reconsidered. “Or at all, don’t use me in that context at all.” 

“I encourage you in following where your heart and other body parts take you, why can’t you encourage me?” Isaac pouted from across the lunch table. 

“I’ll encourage you so long as you promise to record everything,” said Erica from the vicinity of Boyd’s lap. “Vernon and I can watch it when we get all amorous.” 

“I actually think that I can go through the rest of my life quite happily without seeing my friend having sex with our team and classmates,” Boyd said as Erica put on a pout to match Isaac’s. “But seriously man, good on you. Stilinski can be obnoxious as hell sometimes,” Derek opened his mouth to protest when Boyd held up his hand to stop him, “Dude I know you’re blinded by love or whatever, but even you gotta admit that the guy can wear on some people’s last nerve sometimes.” 

“Well I guess I’m just not one of those people,” Derek said looking down at the remnants of his sandwich. 

“That is probably a better declaration of love than any of whatever poems you’re always writing. Seriously that is super sweet,” Erica cooed delightedly. “For all the crush I had on him B.V., I don’t think I would have been able to say that.” 

“Fine, yes, but you guys all knew that about me. Can you all just stop acting like this is anything more than just us being lab partners?” Derek asked as he picked up his tray to dump it out, Isaac following behind him. 

“We would if it was,” Isaac said as they walked over to the garbage, “but we really think it’s not. I know you’re so used to be lovelorn and tortured in the shadows, but the three of us, we’ve been keeping an eye on him too, and it seems like…look, you know I would never encourage you to go for it like I do if I didn’t think you had a shot.” 

“Thinking and knowing…I just…” They both dumped their trash into the canisters. 

“I know you’re afraid,” Isaac said, putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder “And I want you to know that what I am going to say next is not an attempt to one up you with misery. The people you love have the capacity to hurt you. You know I know that. But I also know that that Stiles, for all that Boyd is right about him being kinda obnoxious sometimes, would never be one to do it intentionally. And that you can’t always be afraid or you’ll trap yourself.” 

Derek found himself standing silent, not knowing what to say. That was always his problem; he always knew what to _write_ but never what to _say._

Isaac squeezed his shoulder. “You took care of me, I just wanna take care of you. Anyway, enough of this mush. Let’s go to class and take bets on whether or not Sun will have any suspicious stains on the front of his pants today.” 

***** 

“I really am trying convince myself that Mr. Sun just had managed to spill some perfectly benign beverage onto his pants but there’s only so far one can delude oneself in the face of insurmountable evidence,” said Lydia with a shudder as she and Derek walked out of English class together. 

“I was trying to convince myself the same. I think I was even less successful than you. Though Isaac did win four dollars off of me and Boyd so at least he was happy.” 

“That is some determination to look on the bright side. Anything in particular got you in a good mood today?” Lydia asked with a raise of an artfully shaped brow. 

“I…I’m just not going to let it bother me today is all,” Derek said as they neared Finstock’s class, and saw Stiles coming from the other hallway, waving to them as he came closer. 

“Hmm,” said Lydia with a smile as she deigned to return a small wave of acknowledgement to a rapidly approaching Stiles. “Oh, and before I forget, you and Warren will be at the dog park this Saturday right? Prada is starting to pine.” 

Derek smiled. “Warren misses her too. We’ll be there.” 

“Alright, today I’m going to clarify things before I butt in,” Stiles said as he arrived. 

“Yet you are still butting in,” Lydia said sweetly. 

“I can only change so much and still be me. Anyway, are you two trying to match-make your dogs?” Stiles asked. 

“They’re already crazy about each other. Nothing we could do,” said Derek with a chuckle. 

“And besides, saying matchmaker or matchmaking sounds so calculating and unromantic. If anything I would call myself a facilitator of true love,” Lydia said with a smile and a flip of her hair as she walked into the class. 

Stiles made as sound that Derek would classify as a cough for lack of anything closer before straightening up and gesturing for Derek to enter the classroom, “After you?” 

Finstock made Shantel sing ‘It’s a Privilege to Pee,’ continuing his descent into Broadway madness, but at least confirming why she had been the lead in the school play for the last two years. 

***** 

As always Warren bounded up to meet Derek as soon as he got close to the house. 

“Do you really miss me that much while I’m gone?” Derek laughed as he wheeled his bike to the house, Warren licking his hand all the way. He placed his bike in its usual spot and set his bag on the swing before going inside to get Warren’s pill and cheese, and as an extra treat filled up the KONG cone with peanut butter. 

He went back outside with both hands behind his back, Warren’s tail wagging back and forth with excitement at both Derek’s approach and the scent of the hidden treats. 

“First this one,” said Derek, holding out the cheese wrapped pill first. After that was eagerly devoured Derek held out the KONG, but didn’t give it Warren right away, instead waving it out front of himself and teasing the Newfie with it a little as he took a seat on the porch swing. Warren gave him the affronted look that all dogs seemed to excel at for being denied his treat until soon enough Derek didn’t have the heart to deprive him anymore and set the KONG down on the ground. 

Warren immediately went to town getting the peanut butter out, trying to hold it between his paws but very nearly dislodging it with the force of his licks. Derek reached down to scratch behind an utterly content Warren’s ears before leaning back in the seat and taking his notebook out of his bag. 

It was hard for him to truly believe that he had just lived the day he had. That after years of being absolutely certain that he was a hopeless case, to actually be talking and touching, and even more so actually having a rapport. So what if it wasn’t what all his friends were certain it was? It was still more than he had ever realistically allowed himself to hope for. After all, now he had Stiles’ number in his phone, and was never more glad of his secluded study hall corner where no one had seen him staring at the ten digits for a decent chunk of the period. 

He thought back to what Isaac had told him at lunch. He knew he couldn’t let fear of being hurt dictate his life, but still…hope was dangerous. He knew that too. 

He flipped open his notebook to a blank page and clicked open his pen while Warren continued on blissfully beneath him. 

  
  
**_Striking specter you burst into the light_**

**_And so rise, a spirit made flesh from dreams_**

**_Now you are made real, yet I’ve no respite_**

  
  


**_Once we met only in visions at night,_**

**_Paired with absurdities, monsters eating creams_**

**_Striking specter you burst into the light_**

  
  


**_Nightmares couldn’t harm, you my gallant knight_**

**_But in clear day I can’t divine the theme_**

**_Now you are made real, yet I’ve no respite_**

  
  


**_I ache for clarity, to know what’s right_**

**_Am I allowed to touch you bathed in sunbeams?_**

**_Striking specter you burst into the light_**

  
  


**_No directions, I stare ‘til world blinds white_**

**_You draw nearer and I fray at the seams_**

**_Now you are made real, yet I’ve no respite_**

  
  


**_Lost, I fall to all that I know and write_**

**_Wonder, pray, hope, this is what it seems._**

**_Striking specter you burst into the light,_**

**_Now you are made real, yet I’ve no respite._**

  


***** 

Derek walked into Chemistry class mentally preparing himself for disappointment. After sleeping on it he was so sure that he had managed to convince himself that all of his and Stiles’ interactions from the day before had been built up in his head. 

But based on the way Stiles beamed at him as he walked in, Derek felt his resolve to be prudent in his expectations crumble. 

“Hey man! How you doing?” Stiles asked, pulling Derek’s stool back from the table with his ankle for Derek to sit. 

“As good as I can possibly be considering I’m in Chem class,” Derek replied with a smile of his own, meaning every word as Stiles was just then removing his foot, brushing up against Derek’s ankle as he did so. Derek set his bag down on the table to get his books out and noticed some new scorch marks on the table. 

“What…?”Derek looked to Stiles inquisitively. 

“Apparently some Sophomore is trying to usurp my record of having created the biggest accidental,” Derek raised an eyebrow, “seriously, it was an _accident_ , explosion in the history of the school. Honestly I feel like my legacy is in jeopardy,” Stiles said. 

“It does smell a bit more…chemical-y in here than it usually does,” Derek said, his awareness of its existence making the smell of sulfur and other chemical reactions seem more prominent. 

“I’d call you out on being a poet who just used the word ‘chemical-y’, but I know Shakespeare made up like dozens upon dozens of words, so I guess you get one. Or two. Or more, you can have as many as you want, I don’t want to restrict your word making impulses.” 

“Thanks,” said Derek, going for dry but too amused by Stiles’ earnestness to pull it off completely. Then the first part of what Stiles had said fully registered. “You, ah, know I write poetry?” 

“Well, yeah, I…you wrote me a haiku on the fly yesterday, right? And, um, you’re always writing so I _assumed_ …poet!” Stiles said with a small flourish of his arms, just as Harris walked in the room to glare at the class at large, Stiles and Derek’s table in particular. 

“Notebooks out, safety goggles at the ready, we’re getting right to work today. I know you all think that as Seniors that you can start to phone it in for the rest of the year, but I assure you that that is simply not true,” Once again he glared at where Derek and Stiles were seated. ‘Even if some of you did manage to scam the admissions board at Berkeley into thinking you aren’t a deviant.” Harris turned to face the board as Stiles both stuck out his tongue and flipped the bird to his back, making Derek laugh at the combination before hastily trying to disguise it as a cough as Harris turned back around momentarily to investigate. 

Derek flipped open his class notebook and quickly scrawled in the corner. 

**_Berkeley?_**

Stiles glanced down and nodded. 

**_Me too._** Derek wrote, his heartbeat picking up. 

Stiles had been looking on as Derek wrote his short missive, and so when Derek looked back up he saw Stiles with a huge smile on his face. 

“That’s so awesome,” he whispered, right before Harris unceremoniously dropped a container of chemicals on their table. 

“Careful, if anything breaks it’s detention for you both,” said Harris with a familiar disdainful and sadistic gleam on his face. 

Stiles glared after Harris as he walked away, while Derek took the opportunity to sneak Stiles’ notebook over a bit closer so that he could write in it. 

  
  
**_Outside breeze blows_**

**_Teacher jerk, chemical sting_**

**_Grade really worth it?_**

  
  
Sure, Stiles’ laugh earned them yet another scathing glare from Harris, but Derek would say it was worth it as he started sorting through the chemicals to get started on their class work. 

***** 

“I’m beginning to look at my chemistry legacy another way,” Stiles said as class let out and he gathered up his things. 

“And what way is that?” Derek asked as he waited by the corner of the table for Stiles to finish so they could walk to their next class together. They had done so yesterday, so Derek hoped that it would be the same for this day. 

“Instead of trying to hold onto a mere single, _completely accidental that’s my story and I’m sticking to it,_ act performed by myself, maybe a better legacy would be that of nurturing the future generations, like, maybe I should cultivate a bright and eager protégé to carry on with the cause,” Stiles said as they started down the hallway. 

“You like the idea of a guarantee that other people will be making Harris’s life hell for years after you’re gone,” Derek translated. 

“I so do. No Anarchists Cookbook stuff or anything bad like that, just some helpful tips to make some of Harris’s go to assignments a bit more lively while still being safe for all involved.” 

“That sounds simultaneously both very noble and very petty.” 

“I know, isn’t it?” Stiles said with a very self satisfied smile. “So hey, your place after school today, right? Do you want me to come by later or right after or what?” 

“Um, right after would probably be better? If we wait til my sisters gets home I can’t guarantee much productivity. Or even quality avoiding productivity. Laura and Cora are very…Laura and Cora,” Derek said, leaving it at that as no other descriptors would ever be quite accurate. 

“Yeah, I remember from last year when Laura was still a Senior here and they dressed up for the town Halloween festival and costume contest as classic Ann Landers and slightly miniaturized classic Dear Abby. They spent the entire afternoon either pretending to argue with each other or going up to everyone and offering really invasive advice and suggestions based on people’s costumes, right?” 

“They had a bet going between themselves to see who could make more people blush. Cora won because even though Laura was able to work more blue, the fact that a twelve year old was asking even slightly risqué questions put her over the edge.” 

“So that’s why my dad made such an interesting face after she talked to him…” Stiles said, sounding amused. 

“I was just glad that they had a target other than me to try and get a rise out of. Not that they’re like that even the majority of the time of course, but when they decide on a certain type of ‘sibling bonding’, it usually isn’t nearly as much fun for me as for them. But Laura will still be in class at county and Cora has middle school softball and then dance, so we won’t have to worry about them when we’re trying to work.” 

“I gotta say I am honestly mystified by sibling dynamics that didn’t come into existence due to sharing cookies and having similar opinions on naptime in pre-K,” Stiles said, leaning in closer and brushing up against Derek’s side to avoid colliding with a mass of Freshman girls who looked to have no interest in separating. “So you bike, right? I’m pretty sure I can fit it into my Jeep so we can drive up together. If you want, I mean it would make sure I didn’t turn down the wrong road and end up in Bigfoot’s den or something.” 

“Pretty sure I’d have run into Bigfoot before if he was only a wrong turn away. But yeah, sounds good. Us driving up together, sounds good,” said Derek as they continued to walk side by side until reaching their classroom. 

***** 

“We should give you make out tips. We wouldn’t want you to drop the ball at the finish line,” Erica said from her spot sprawled across Boyd’s lap underneath the tree in the quad where they had all decided to eat lunch. 

“Mixed sports metaphor sweetie,” said Boyd as he carded his hand through her blond hair. 

“And really, you’re calling make outs ‘the finish line’? Erica, you are crushing my dreams of at least some of my friends currently having a happy and healthy sex life,” Isaac said, prompting Erica to laugh and throw her apple core at him. 

“You are all too invested in this. You’re all more convinced that there even is a ‘this’ more than I am, and in any case, no matter what the state of ‘this’ actually is, you are still too invested in it,” said Derek, wondering why he didn’t just beg off to eat lunch by himself for the day. 

All of Derek’s friends were giving him the same look, one that clearly said he was fooling no one with his protestations, especially as halfhearted as they were becoming, as hope wormed its way into his heart. 

“Besides,” he said, allowing himself at least one indulgence in front of his friends, “I’m sure Stiles would be a way better kisser than any of you.” 

“How rude! Vernon, defend our honor!” Erica exclaimed as she pulled Boyd’s head down and started kissing him in a decidedly non PG manner. 

“C’mon Derek. You don’t want to pick up any of their bad habits before your _study_ date later,” said Isaac with a smirk as he rose to his feet before helping Derek up so they could leave Erica and Boyd to indulge themselves in relative privacy. “You still got half a day left to go before choosing whether we mock you or congratulate you tomorrow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I had to do a villanelle for the story as one way back when of my friends confused 'theater major' with 'poetry expert' and kept texting me to ask the format of one so she could write a poem for her boyfriend. Thank you wikipedia... ;)


	4. Limerick, Sevenling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks to my faboo beta Too_Old. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

“We’re going to the same college Scott. I hadn’t even thought about that, but _Scott, we are going to the same college,”_ Stiles said with awe as he and Scott walked out of the Panera Bread, carryout orders for themselves as well as Lydia and Allison in hand. 

“Allison and I are going to the same college,” Scott pointed out, shifting his bag in his arms to open the backseat of the Jeep to stow the food away for the trip back to school. 

“Yeah, but you two planned that,” Stiles said, putting his bag in after, leaving Scott to shut the door as he bounded over to the driver’s side and got in. “This wasn’t planned, this just happened and it doesn’t _feel_ like a coincidence, you know? I don’t know why, but it feels like…” 

“Like fate, right? Like destiny?” Scott said with a warm smile as he fastened his seatbelt, giving Stiles a nod to start the car. “That’s what I feel with Allison. I mean, we didn’t have the higher education sync up that you evidently are having to put the cherry on top, but sometimes things just feel right.” 

“Aw man, half of me is turning to goo at that and picturing me and Derek having like a Victorian themed wedding or something-“ 

“Why Victorian?” 

“I dunno why, I guess because they had a lot of poets and I think Derek would look really sexy in a vest and top hat? Whatever. Anyway, and the other half of me cannot believe that I am apparently turning into _you_ in full on lovey-dovey-romance forever mode,” Stiles said with a shake of his head as he made the U-turn to get on the right road to go back to the school. “You were more than a little insufferable right when you two started out, you know. Oh lord, I think _before_ you two were official was even worse in a way.” 

“But it’s the being insufferable- sorry about that by the way-” 

“De nada,” Stiles said with a wave of his hand. 

“Not the feelings themselves, right?” 

“Yeah. And it doesn’t feel like I did for Lydia, and it doesn’t feel like these thoughts are coming on too fast, it just feels like yeah, I like this and I want more of this and oh my god I have seriously turned into you.” 

“I’m hurt that you see that as a bad thing,” Scott said, trying to shoot puppy dog eyes at Stiles. 

Stiles glanced over briefly. “Not a good look for you dude.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you know? But anyway…I get that things feeling right can actually feel really weird sometimes if you’re not used to it, but it’s worth it. It’s like, even when we have a really bad fight there’s this knowledge in the back of my mind reassuring me that so long as I don’t get stupid and give up we can eventually work things out. And I’m guessing that can come off as being a little insufferably in love to people on the outside sometimes, but I’m ok with that. And cause you’re my brother, I really hope that you’re going to be all insufferable like that soon too.” 

“Thanks Scott,” Stiles said pulling into the Senior parking lot. “It’s good to hear that I’m not more of a weirdo for thinking like that.” 

“No problem man,” said Scott with a light cuff of Stiles’ shoulder once he parked the Jeep. 

“And if all goes well I promise to make out with Derek in front of you multiple times so we can both really experience the full new relationship dynamic from both sides, ok?” 

“Will you at least promise not to go past first base in front of me?” Scott asked, his voice heavy with resignation. 

“I don’t know Scott, search your memory and think of what would be quid pro quo,” said Stiles pulling the first of the takeout bags out of the backseat, earning a mournful groan of acknowledgement from Scott. “C’mon, let’s get the food over to the girls and eat.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Scott said, spotting Allison and Lydia sitting at an outside table and giving them a wave. 

“After all, who knows how much I’ll need my energy later on today?” Stiles asked with an exaggerated lascivious wink. 

“Damnit Stiles, I’m really pretty sure I never pulled this crap on you,” Scott groused, though a hint of a smile still showed through. 

“Well, to catch up with the sheer volume of what you did do I have to step it up a bit to catch up.” 

“How about you put your male bonding/antagonizing/whatever on hold long enough to give me my food? Summer corn chowder, and a garden salad if you please,” Lydia piped up as they neared the table, while Allison smiled before finishing up the last problem on her math worksheet and putting it away as Scott set out her food. Stiles looked at the still utterly besotted look Scott gave her, even after two years together, and sighed. 

“Alright Scott,” he said, pulling out his own sandwich and sitting down across from Scott and Allison. “Even if things go _spectacularly_ …I’ll stop at first in front of you.” 

***** 

Stiles had to stay a few extra minutes after for his sociology class as Ms. Garcia wanted to discuss his paper on ethnic stereotyping and deviant behavior in video games, focusing mainly on the Grand Theft Auto series. Surprisingly she had actually liked it and wanted to recommend some semi related articles that she had read that she thought Stiles might appreciate. And he did, he really did, but talking to her did make him almost late for Finstock’s class, even taking it at a run, giving him no chance to talk with Derek beforehand. 

Not that he wasn’t going to be having one on one time with Derek later, but it had become kind of a thing, plus seeing Lydia and Derek interact as buds was still so unexpected, and yet so bizarrely fascinating. 

He burst into the classroom just as the bell started, and slid, panting and out of breath into his seat before it had even finished ringing. 

Finstock had already launched into his lecture on supply and demand and how it applied to there never being any shoo-fly pies at the diner even though it was his favorite, so Stiles was able to take a few minutes to catch his breath and appreciate the lines of the back of Derek’s neck and shoulders. He was appreciative of the view, limited as it was, but he liked it a hell of a lot better when Derek turned around to flash him a quick smile while Finstock was otherwise engaged in berating Greenberg. Stiles felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the sight of it, a flash of white teeth and upturned lips, the pounding of his heart picking back up when it should have finally be evening out after his sprinting. 

Stiles was seriously never going to have the moral high ground to call out Scott on some of his Allison centric reactions and habits. He was still going to of course, but the high ground had officially been bulldozed completely flat. 

Class went by as classes with Finstock frequently did, bits of actual information interspersed with ample material for anyone in the field of psychology looking for a new and bizarre subject for a case study to get published. 

Stiles did manage a brief moment with Derek after the bell rang but before he had to go to his next class with Lydia. 

“So I have gym last, so I might be like a few minutes longer? I’ll text you where to meet when I’m done so you’re not just wandering around the parking lot looking bereft, okay?” Stiles asked. 

“Sounds good, but I really don’t see myself as wandering around ‘bereft’ like a little kid lost at the circus,” Derek said, his eyebrows emoting way more that Stiles believed his own could ever possibly be capable of. 

“Ooh, that sounds like a story you will be telling me later,” Stiles said, jogging backwards a few steps in the hall, and was about to crash into the captain of the JV wrestling team before Lydia grabbed his arm and forcibly turned him the right way around. 

“Remember Derek, Prada needs her playdate tomorrow, usual time,” Lydia called out with a small wave before turning back to Stiles. “What would you do without me? And when I ask that I mean on every conceivable level.” 

“I’d be lost Lydia,” Stiles said as they walked down the hallway. “Completely and utterly.” 

***** 

Stiles normally never bothered with a shower after gym, as usually he went right home afterwards, or to hang with Scott, and at this point in their long and storied relationship they were pretty much used to each other’s stench. But now, as there was the very strong possibility of being in _very_ close proximity to Derek for an extended period of time, he didn’t think that starting things out smelling of stale sweat was the way to go. He had even brought some of his regular shampoo and soap to school with him in one of those little travel bottles. If he was going to be squeaky clean he didn’t want to just replace the smell of sweat with that of what he was reasonably sure were industrial strength soaps originally intended for scouring the interior of sewage pipes supplied, in less than luxurious flake form even, by the school. Not that it still wasn’t an improvement in regards to certain individuals, but it was still one of Stiles’ working theories that extended exposure to the soap may be a factor into the mystery everyone was to afraid to solve that was Finstock. 

But really, potentially mind altering properties aside, Stiles was pretty sure that he had noticed Derek taking in a whiff of Stiles while he was all squeaky clean from using his regular products before school the other day when they had first paired up for chemistry, and the micro expression that had passed over his face certainly _seemed_ to have been favorable. 

Enough to give Stiles a partial boner underneath the table anyways. So citrusy yet manly shampoo and bodywash were definitely the direction he was going to choose. 

He was also going to stop thinking about things that made le petit Stiles excited in the locker room shower, because once upon a time Freshman year was enough of that glorious embarrassment. 

Stiles finished up in the showers quickly, all body parts behaving themselves, before briskly toweling himself off and throwing on his street clothes. 

He wasn’t two steps out of the locker room before being cornered by Lydia, Allison and Scott. 

“Well this is déjà vu all over again,” Stiles said as Allison began to fish in her bag for something. 

“We just wanted to give you one more moral support and advice session before your little studious and theoretically romantic _tête-à-tête, _” Lydia said.__

“Okay, I have to ask, when you stayed home to recover from getting your wisdom teeth taken out did you just like mainline a marathon of ‘Millionaire Matchmaker’ and decide that her methods were inferior and that you needed to one day usurp her position?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydia answered Stiles coolly, telegraphing that he had hit the mark with at least part of his query as Allison pulled a Ziploc baggie out of her bag and handed it over to Stiles. 

Stiles shifted the bag around in his hands so he could better see what was inside without having to open it. Some flavor free lip balm, some mints, some gum and… 

“Why are you giving me condoms!?” Stiles hissed at Allison, deceptively sweet-faced Allison. 

“We just thought a date kit would be a good idea,” she said with a smile. “We got your favorite mints and gum that isn’t a super weird flavor-” 

“Kiwi/blackberry gum is not weird it’s just an acquired taste-” 

“And the most masculine chap-stick at the store, and Scott picked out the condoms because, um, he had the best idea of your…size, so the fit should be ok,” Allison finished, making a point of looking Stiles in the eyes. 

“I guess I should be glad you guys didn’t just throw in some extra of yours,” said Stiles scrubbing his hand through his still damp hair. 

“Well actually it was really convenient to go shopping for you because we needed to restock anyway,” Scott said offhandedly, making Allison giggle and Lydia look at the two of them assessingly. 

“Is this why you said you couldn’t make it to the movies tonight? You know I support you in your endeavors but neglecting all other social obligations for orgasms does make those not involved in the fornication feel a bit neglected,” Lydia said to Allison before turning to Scott. “You are giving her orgasms, right?” 

“Of course I am!” Scott countered before worriedly turning to Allison for confirmation. “Aren’t I?” 

“Yes, and they’re very enjoyable ones too,” said Allison giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“Well, now that I have been _yet again_ put in a position of picturing my friends having sex, I just have a few things I would like to get off my chest before I skedaddle,” Stiles said, mentally reminding himself that if things did go as planned with Derek long term, to make a list of the most awkward times to bring up things like beard burn on any multitude of locations, Derek really had the look of someone who could get some sexy stubble going, in front of Scott. Beard burns and hopefully so much more. He had promised nothing physical past first in front of him, but some kind of retribution was still called for. 

“For one, if for whatever reason you need or feel compelled to pick up lip balm for me I actually like the stuff that tastes like honey. Not to sound ungrateful, just an FYI. Two, while the mints and balm are actual super appreciated and will be put to good use immediately, even if things do go as well as they possibly can this afternoon, I think any activities necessitating condoms are probably not going to be happening quite this early. And three, if you are giving me the condoms, what about the lube? It can be used in many fun joint activities at varying levels of…well let’s just say it’s all genital fun times, some of which don’t really call for a condom, and as a good guest I wouldn’t want to impose on my host by assuming he would have lube of his own. I mean he’s a teenage guy, obviously he has _something,_ but would it be condom compliant if the condoms _were_ to be used today? Scott, Allison, do we need to have a sex-ed refresher about different lubes and latex so we don’t have to worry about any little McCall-Argents running around?” 

Allison was red faced, but also doubled over with laughter, while Scott was just red faced, and Lydia looked like she was about to ask if Allison was sure, really sure, that enough foreplay and oral were being incorporated into her and Scott’s sexual repertoire. Stiles opened up the baggie, popped a mint and palmed the balm to put in his pocket before closing the baggie and shoving it into his own backpack. 

“And on that note, I take my leave of you. I hope this was moderately mortifying for all of us,” Stiles said as he turned and walked away from his helpful yet almost disturbingly invested friends. 

He had barely managed to clear the corner when he almost collided with Isaac, who was looking way too comfortable in his position leaning up against the wall to have just adopted it all that recently. 

“Heeeey Isaac… how are things?” Stiles always forgot how freaking _tall_ Isaac was, as the guy had a tendency to slouch and slump all the time, but then there were moments like right now when Isaac pushed himself against the wall that it really clicked that dude was _tall_ . 

“He doesn’t think he’s worth as much as he is,” Isaac said. “But he honestly for whatever reason thinks the world of you.” 

“I…I don’t know why any of that is, why he doesn’t see that he’s awesome or why he thinks I am but…I want to prove him wrong on the former and try and live up to the latter as best I can, okay?” 

“Okay,” Isaac said, easing back into his more familiar relaxed posture. “And I would also like to just chime in that level of preparedness and availability of rubbers aside, you’re right in that no full on penetrative deflowering should be going on today, if for no other reasons than I don’t want to risk being subjected to a full on classical ode devoted to your coupling, and that Derek’s family has been known to come home a little earlier on Fridays, and are really not the best with the concept of ‘knock first,’ so you’d probably want to plan that out better.” 

“I get a warning and sexy times planning advice all at once right after my best friend and his girlfriend buy condoms for me, what is my life right now?” Stiles groaned. “And dare I ask what you think he would write for some dry humping or clumsy handjobs?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care on both questions, all I know is I just performed my Derek related duties as I saw fit,” Isaac said with a smirk before a contemplative look and a slight blush took over his face. “So listening to you guys earlier it kind of sounded like Scott and Allison are pretty chill about all things regarding…yeah, so do you have any idea if-” 

“Gotta go, been keeping Derek waiting much too long!” Stiles yelled as he broke into a run. He was _not_ up for being an intermediary for negotiating a threesome at the moment, or any other time really, but definitely not when he had Derek waiting for him. 

He texted- 

**South entrance be there in 1**

-as he stopped by his locker to swap out his books for what he needed for the afternoon and the rest of the weekend. He heard his alert go off, and looked down briefly to smile at Derek’s confirmation before taking the lip balm out for a quick application and setting off at a brisk pace to meet up with Derek, wondering if his lips met the ‘kissably soft’ criteria threshold at the moment, and really hoping that Derek could help him find out. 

***** 

“I gotta admit, a small part of me wanted to see just a teeny tiny peek of Bigfoot on the drive up. Just enough of glimpse to take some shakey camera phone footage, you know?” Stiles said as they made the last turn to get to the Hale house. 

“I’m sorry the ride up was a disappointment,” Derek deadpanned, but his eyes were slightly squinted in that smiley way when people were trying to hold back. 

“Well, lack of Bigfoot aside, I actually thought it was a pretty ok ride,” Stiles said. And it was; immediately agreed upon radio station, easy and comfortable small talk, a light brush against Derek’s thigh when Stiles released the parking brake that Stiles was ready to pretend was accidental if needed, even though it totally wasn’t. 

And there was no need for him to pretend either. 

The Hale house came into view, and yup there was a _massive_ black dog on the front porch, lounging underneath a porch swing that was idly drifting back and forth with the breeze. Stiles parked the car, reached into the backseat to snag his bag and had one foot out of the Jeep ready to go and see if Derek needed any help getting his bike out, when suddenly the dog was right there, standing right in front of him, blocking his exit and staring at him in that special inquisitive way seemingly exclusive to dogs. 

“Umm…Derek…” Stiles called, with no small note of apprehension in his voice. It wasn’t that the dog was looking or acting aggressive, just…yeah, he’d buy that this guy was close to two hundred pounds of canine. 

“Just hold out your hand slowly, palm down, and wait a second. Warren just needs to get a feel for you,” Derek’s voice said, floating back from behind the Jeep. Stiles did as he said and five seconds later his one hand was being graced with enthusiastic licks and kisses and being covered in dog slobber, while the other had somehow of its own volition moved to scratch Warren behind his ears. 

“I’m pretty sure I adore this guy already, he has like magic cuddle encouraging slobber,” Stiles said in awe as Warren gave him one last lick before trotting off to give much of the same treatment to Derek who had finally come round with his bike. 

“I did tell you you’d get drooled on,” Derek said with a smile. “C’mon, this guy needs his joint medicine to keep him all up in your face like that, and you may want a paper towel at the very least for your hand. And forearm. You…probably should just take your plaid off to let the sleeve dry. He tends to get a little over enthusiastic with those he views as new friends.” 

“I do feel like we bonded already though,” Stiles said, following Derek and Warren up the front steps and into the house, shrugging out of his partially sodden top layer on the way. Once inside he followed them into the kitchen and sought out the paper towels immediately, grabbing one and making a beeline to the sink, because as much as he had decided he liked Warren already, he did not make sure that his breath was minty fresh and lips baby soft just to have a limb smelling of eau de Warren for when things hopefully got handsy. 

Derek meanwhile was over at the fridge, pulling out a slice of cheese and wrapping it around a pill before feeding it to a happy Warren. He glanced over to Stiles at the sink and explained, “The easiest way to make sure he takes it alright.” 

“Does he have a favorite, like cheddar or brie, or-what the hell is this?” Stiles asked with a laugh, interrupting himself once he looked up and noticed the framed piece of paper he had managed to overlook in his first objective driven perusal of the kitchen. 

It was written in crayon, in the telltale irregular yet intrinsically charming handwriting of a child, with crude little illustrations around it. 

“Ah, that, that is-” Derek began even as Stiles started to read it aloud. 

  
  
**“Laura was a very rude and bad girl/ so mean to her brother her mother’s hair would curl.**

**So mom decided to try again/ and everyone shouted amen/**

**Because Cora is nice like a squirrel.”**

  
  


Stiles couldn’t help but break down laughing at the end as he finished reading it out loud. 

“Now _that_ is a poetic masterpiece! I especially like the drawing of what I think is supposed to be a squirrel, possibly one on ecstasy or some other party drugs in the corner, though the one of what I guess is supposed to be Laura with fangs is pretty good too, all very reminiscent of an illuminated manuscript. Very ‘Book of Kells’ I daresay. ” 

“Shut up, I was like seven, okay? I was just really proud that I made everything actually rhyme right.” Derek said walking over, his face red. 

“And your mother was so proud that she had it framed? Even though you insulted one of her daughters and called the other a squirrel? And I’m not a hundred percent on squirrel being a compliment either…” 

“Like I said, it rhymed, and I thought squirrels were cute, and Cora was just a baby and she was cute....really I’d like to see some examples of your little kid logic,” Derek said defensively, though with no heat in it. 

“Oh, no you do not,” Stiles replied hastily. For him it had involved a lot of superheroes and jumping off of things that should not have been jumped off of wearing underwear in unintended ways. 

“See with the face you just made I think I do,” Derek said with a smile that meant if he asked Stiles about it again he was going to tell him, dammit. “Anyway, I guess mom saw that it was my own way of self expression and standing up for myself? And that Laura maybe might have had it coming a little when she pushed me down into a mud puddle and then poured more mud on the inside of my clothes.” 

Derek looked at the crayon scrawled poem behind the glass and smirked. “Before mom had it framed she also had it copied and sent out with all our holiday cards for that year, saying that the entire family knowing about Laura’s behavior would hopefully embarrass her into being nicer to her siblings. And as an additional unintended consequence Cora is still getting squirrel themed gifts, though luckily she still likes them.” 

“Cause squirrels are cute,” Stiles said with a smirk. 

“Shut up and let’s actually get to work, ok?” Derek said turning to walk out of the kitchen. Both Warren and Stiles followed him with what Stiles imagined might be disturbingly similar expressions of dopey affection, though Warren was given a treat and let back outside while Stiles and Derek went up to Derek’s room. 

“So this is where the magic happens,” Stiles said as he stepped inside, taking a moment to appreciate that Derek had a full sized rather than twin bed, before realizing that that statement might have been a step too far at that moment. “The magic of studying. Education, what a…magic thing.” 

“That was very eloquent. Are you planning to apply to get a speaking spot at graduation?” Derek laughed, the blatant innuendo having either passed him by or was being purposely ignored as he emptied out his school bag. 

“I thought I would freestyle rap. I think my complete lack of flow would really fit the tone for awkward speeches about the future and of remembering the good times that weren’t all that good,” Stiles said pulling out his own books. “But for now, science!” 

He pulled up an extra chair and scrunched up next to Derek at the desk, even the parts of his body that wasn’t touching Derek feeling the warmth of his proximity, and started reading the information from in class aloud as Derek began to input it into his computer to get their baseline graphs organized and sorted. 

They had been going on for about fifteen minutes or so, all of it very productive though Stiles was beginning to wonder when he should make his move, did he miss the chance to make his move for the day, what the hell kind of move should he even _make,_ when a tickle of dust or swallow of saliva went down the wrong pipe as he spoke and he was suddenly nearly doubled over coughing, Derek’s hand on his back. 

“Are you alright?” Derek asked worriedly, his hand a reassuring warmth of pressure on Stiles’ back. 

“Yeah, I just, like dust or something?” Stiles got out as his coughing subsided for the most part. “You know how it goes sometimes, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s always fun,” Derek said, relief evident in his voice. “I’m gonna go get you some water, okay?” 

“Oh lord thank you,” Stiles said, some coughing still hindering his speech, as Derek lifted his hand off of Stiles’ back in a way that Stiles was choosing to interpret as reluctantly, and got up to go get some much needed liquid from the kitchen. 

The coughing had mostly run its course, but Stiles could still feel that bit of irritation in his throat that hinted at it just lying in wait to resurface the moment he tried to talk again. He leaned back heavily in the chair, his feet kicking out and making the desk shake, dislodging some of Derek’s other books that he had taken out of his bag, making them fall from the desk to the floor in disarray. 

Stiles leaned down to pick them up, put paused when he reached down and saw a familiar, at least if one was familiar with Derek, leather bound journal. 

And it had fallen open. 

“I should not be doing this,” Stiles said as he leaned down again, and lifted it up, still open. 

“I am a horrible person,” he said as he began to read. 

  
  
_**My own cheering section: tall, tall, small**_

_**They count out: one, two, three**_

_**They grab my number, tell me it’s up**_

  
  


_**My own mocking section: poke, prod, tease**_

_**They call out: ready set, go**_

_**My race has begun, gotta catch up**_

  
  
_**Hope my prize is you.**_

  
  


Stiles shut the book quickly as he heard Derek come back up the stairs and put it back on the desk only seconds before Derek came back through the doorway, a glass of water in each hand. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said still a little croakily, reaching out and taking one, downing a solid few gulps immediately. The time to talk was now, no more wondering about moves and the right times to perform them. 

The sincerity and honesty Derek showed when he wrote poetry, the way he opened himself up in pen and ink and paper, even if he wasn’t saying it aloud…Stiles owed him that back, especially because Derek didn’t even _know_ how just much he had shared due to Scott and Allison and their photocopy, or Stiles taking a peek just moments before. 

He didn’t know how much it meant. 

“So I really think I should tell you, before we…get back to work, continue our…this,” Stiles gestured between the two of them, “what we’ve started, what we got... I’ve read some of your poems. Not just the haikus you wrote in class or the one in the poetry journal about Warren, it was _beautiful_ by the way, but also some others in a way that was probably a pretty big violation of your privacy. But I’m pretty damn sure I’ve been slowly falling in love with you for months, and I did bribe Danny with real cash money to swap lab partners so I could get closer to you, so I hope you can forgive me for reading your poems without, you know, your permission.” 

Derek gaped, and Stiles held his breath, waiting for Derek’s response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the poems in this chapter were a limerick and a sevenling! The idea of some of bb!Derek's poetry hanging around was just too cute I couldn't resist :) 
> 
> And next chapter, I don't know, the rating may creep up above teen... ;) (yeah, look at me trying to be coy.)


	5. Nonnet, Free Verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, beta'd by the fab Too_Old. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> and you will notice that the rating did creep up just a wee bit :)

Derek didn’t know what to say. 

Hell, he wasn’t completely sure what he should even _feel_. 

He supposed that he should be feeling betrayed that Stiles had read his poems without him knowing, though how he had read any other than just then he had no idea, but while it wasn’t…he wouldn’t say he was completely alright with it, but it didn’t really feel like a betrayal. 

Maybe because the poems were _for_ Stiles that it didn’t feel exactly wrong that he had read some. Maybe because in the midst of his confession Stiles had mentioned something about falling in love with Derek. 

Derek didn’t know what to say, so he settled on- 

“What?” 

-to let Stiles interpret that however he would, so he would talk more, and Derek would find out more, and then maybe he would start to feel his hands again. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” so Stiles was starting off with reading his poems, alright, he could work with that, “Scott and Allison showed me the first one, the sonnet about the constellations…” Stiles blushed, his hand on the back of his neck, and Derek could not tell if he himself was burning up or frozen, as both seemed to be a reasonable enough response to finding out that of all the poems Stiles had already read, it had to be one that involved Derek wishing _he could lick Stiles’ moles._

“H~,” Derek wasn’t quite sure what word he was even trying to get out, but he was right in relying on Stiles having enough to say to find anything as encouragement to continue on. 

“You don’t even want to know how they got it, I don’t, it probably involved some under the shirt over the bra action that led to them knocking over your bag while you were having Warren checked out a little while ago and them being super nosey, like I can throw stones at this point, looking at your notebook when it fell just a minute ago, maybe you should invest in one with some sort of clasp, but they saw it, and they thought I should see it. Because they knew how I felt, but I didn’t know that you…that you really…I’m messing this up,” Stiles said despondently. 

“You-” Derek began, his faculties coming back to him, ready to speak, but Stiles was apparently on a roll. 

“I mean, what the hell, I declare myself while admitting to multiple violations of your privacy, even though in my defense I really didn’t know about it the first time until I had finished reading it. Paper is thrust into my hands, what else am I supposed to do, not read it? But also, I mean, if you ask my dad he would say I have personal boundary issues, kind of in general yeah, but especially with people I really care about. I feel I really shouldn’t be copping to that right now, because saying it aloud it really does not seem to be doing my position any favors, but it is a thing with me apparently, so I’ll work on it. I promise.” 

“You shouldn’t have read my poetry without my permission,” Derek said quietly. He could start with that, that he could manage. 

“I know,” Stiles said, subdued, the burst of energy that had sustained his admission fading. “I know.” Stiles took a step back, reaching for his own notebook on the desk as he did so, egress obviously his objective. 

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Derek repeated, and Stiles dropped his gaze to the floor in shame. “But I’m not mad at you.” 

Stiles whipped his head up so fast Derek was surprised he didn’t hear a ‘pop’, either from his bones shifting so abruptly or from breaking the sound barrier, the motion had seemed so fast. 

“You-you’re not-” Stiles stammered out. 

“I’m not happy that you did it without permission, but I just…I can’t feel mad, at least not…not enough to yell at you and throw you out for betraying my trust like that, because you did,” Stiles nodded solemnly in resigned agreement, “but I…I’ve felt for you so much for so long, such a stupidly long time, if you read them then you know how I feel, how damn much I _love_ you, even when I thought you didn’t think of me past a random guy who was always around, that I can’t completely…I don’t have it in me to be enraged right now. Not if you mean what you’re saying, all of it, from knowing that what you did was wrong and that you’re sorry, and that you…” Derek trailed off, suddenly afraid to ask for this last confirmation, even after having made his own blunt confession out loud, no meter or rhymes or imagery, just the word love almost thrown into Stiles’ face. 

“I love you. I know I threw that qualifier in there earlier about being ‘pretty sure,’ but I shouldn’t have. It doesn’t belong there. I, I may not have felt that way for as long as you have, you know I had a, let’s be honest, straight up a fixation on Lydia,” Stiles ducked his head again briefly in rueful embarrassment, before lifting it once more and locking eyes with Derek, “But I always noticed you. I always thought you seemed like someone I wanted to know more. And then when I got my head out of my ass and actually _saw_ _you_ , and I wanted, I wanted so much.” 

“When did you see me?” Derek asked breathily, the unasked question of ‘do you only think you love me because you know I love you?’ heavy in the air. 

“Months ago. Before I knew what you were writing about, that it was _me_ , that I somehow…I won’t deny that finding out wasn’t the impetus for me to get my act together and stop dicking around because I wasn’t sure what to do, but before any of that I saw someone smart and handsome with a great smile and loyal as hell to his friends, someone who I wanted to look at me as if I was someone special,” Stiles answered, hearing the unspoken question and answering it the right way, and oh god Derek felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, this was almost an obscene amount of honesty out of both of them for having kept silent for so long. “I mean, I thought that anytime you looked at me it was for the same reason anyone else does. I mean, I do have a tendency to speak up filter free and on occasion cause explosions. The idea that you were seeing anything else just wasn’t something that even entered my mind. I actually have no idea what you see when you look at me-” 

“I saw someone smart and handsome with a great smile and loyal as hell to his friends, someone who I wanted to look at me as if I was someone special,” Derek said interrupting Stiles. And then there was Stiles, looking at Derek like he was someone special, a bright and wide smile blooming on his face. 

Stiles was already leaning in as if for a kiss or embrace when Derek when an idea suddenly sprang into Derek’s mind. It was kind of odd, but something told him that Stiles would like it. He hoped he would. 

“Wait a second,” Derek said as Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed in the natural prelude to a kiss. “I want to…can you sit down on the bed? And take off your plaid?” Derek asked, the words spilling out his mouth not matching the ones simmering inside his head. 

Stiles’ eyes opened, his confusion plainly broadcast through them, but he obediently shrugged off his usual warm weather top layer of a short sleeved plaid button down, and sat down on the edge of the bed, the normally hidden muscles of his biceps on a better display in a soft cotton T-shirt with a dinosaur wearing librarian glasses on it, than Derek believed he had ever seen them, save a pool party they had both been invited to in middle school. 

And right now they were _definitely_ not the arms of a skinny twelve year old. 

Derek went to his desk, and after spending what felt to him at least like an awkward amount of time rummaging around, found what he was looking for. He sat down next to Stiles on the bed and further rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt, trying his best to concentrate on his objective, and not the warmth and feel of Stiles’ skin, the sound of Stiles’ breath deepening with Derek’s first touch… 

Derek uncapped the Sharpie and began to write, holding Stiles’ arm steady with his left hand as he wrote with the right, taking great care to ensure that words stayed legible, that his hand didn’t shake, even though he was touching Stiles, even though _he was putting his poetry on Stiles._

  
  
_**You found me, caught me, and now I’m yours**_

_**I caught you back, to mark you up**_

_**To claim and prove you’re now mine**_

_**Ink stains skin, ink speaks true**_

_**Once we were both blind**_

_**Now all will see**_

_**Marks on you.**_

_**How ‘bout**_

_**Me?**_

  
  
His penmanship wasn’t especially even throughout, the first lines of the nonnet cramped so that they could all fit on the same plane of the bicep without Derek having to circle around Stiles’ arm, the later ones inadvertently growing larger and more stretched out so that the ‘Me?’ was written at the most narrow part of Stiles’ wrist, the Sharpie catching on Stiles’ bone, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. Derek kept his eyes locked onto his work, determined to complete it as he saw it in his mind’s eye, his words on Stiles’ flesh as he had never dared dream before today. He finished the question mark slowly, the curlicue with the dot underneath, punctuation both grammatically and on his actions. 

He let the sharpie drop onto the floor and raised his head to look up at Stiles, to see what he had thought. 

Stiles’ face was flushed, his breathing heavy and rough, his eyes dilated and his lips parted and wet. 

“I can’t…from this angle I can’t read it, what does it say?” Stiles asked, his voice an unfamiliar rasp that went straight to Derek’s groin. 

Derek hadn’t yet let go of Stiles’ arm, and in an involuntary response to Stiles’ question he instead tightened his grip with his fingers even more, and began to move his thumb gently back and forth over the warm and smooth skin on Stiles’ upper arm, the muscle underneath minutely twitching in a way that sent little shocks through Derek, grounding and reminding him that this was real and Stiles was really there. He was touching Stiles and this was still _all real._

Derek swallowed thickly and read his poem aloud, keeping his gaze squarely on the writing on Stiles’ arm, his face feeling like it was on fire by the second line. He wasn’t accustomed to recitation, he wasn’t… 

He finished, just thankful that he had kept the pacing even and that his voice hadn’t quavered. Eyes still locked on Stiles’ arm, right the line of ink across the bone in Stiles’ wrist. 

“Did you like it?” Derek asked softly, and then that bone under his watch moved, the wonderful play of muscle and sinew and skin over it, and before he could take another breath, Stiles’ hands were on Derek’s face, and his lips on Derek’s lips. 

“Oh my god, you…” Stiles started to say before apparently thinking better of it and instead devoting all of his attention to kissing the living hell out of Derek. 

Derek was good with that, opening his mouth wider and moving it against Stiles’ letting his tongue dart forth to lick at Stiles’ lips and into his mouth. 

Stiles tasted like mint and like water after a drought. Derek caressed Stiles’ tongue with his own, wanting more and more and more… 

Where Stiles’ hands had started off on Derek’s face, gently but firmly holding it in place, they were now beginning to migrate, one now at the back of his head, Stiles’ long and strong fingers threaded securely, but not too roughly in Derek’s hair, and the other was on Derek’s chest, gripping his shirt tight like it both offended Stiles with its presence but was still useful enough to pull Derek in closer that it would be tolerated for the time being. While Derek kept his one hand still on Stiles arm that he had written on, imagining that he could feel his words on Stiles’ skin, his other had relocated to the small of Stiles’ back, low enough that when they moved together, the swell of the top of his ass was _right there_ . 

After continuing in this fashion for Derek didn’t know how long, just that he was getting a little lightheaded and he did not _care,_ Stiles finally broke away with a gasp, pulling back just a scant inch or two so they could both pant and gasp to get air back into their unhappy lungs, but still sharing the same air. 

“So you said,” Stiles said once he had caught his breath enough to be able, his hand carding through Derek’s hair. “You said you wanted me to mark you up too?” 

“I…yeah, I want-” Derek gave up trying to be articulate as he reluctantly let go of and disengaged himself from Stiles and leaned far enough back from him so that he could take off his shirt, wrenching it off so fast he was sure he heard a seam pop. “You too,” he told Stiles, momentum making him bold, even as he properly took in his handiwork, how puffed and red Stiles’ lips looked. “Take off your shirt.” 

“Already you’re in the habit of telling me to take off my clothes,” Stiles said with a lick of his lips before leaning to give Derek another kiss, slow and sweet. “I can get used to that.” 

Stiles quickly shucked his shirt, letting it fall carelessly to the ground right before he all but flung himself at Derek, angling and pushing him down lengthwise onto the bed. 

“Hey!” Derek gasped out as his back hit the mattress and Stiles loomed over him, having lifted and swung himself around so that he was now on all fours straddling Derek, his knees bracketing Derek’s legs, the arm that Derek’s poem was on gripping Derek’s shoulder, Stiles’ right arm just to the side of Derek’s shoulder. 

“Where?” Stiles asked, his eyes roaming over Derek’s bare chest and torso like he was at a candy store and wanted to taste everything. 

Again, something Derek was good with. 

“Anywhere you want,” Derek said, earning himself a smile that was simultaneously brilliant and hungry from Stiles, right before Stiles lowered his mouth the juncture of Derek’s neck and collar bone and _oh-_

“Ahh!” 

Stiles sucked harder, his tongue darting out to give little licks to the rapidly bruising flesh before lifting his head slightly to look back up at Derek. 

“Do I get the impression that someone really enjoys getting hickeys?” Stiles asked, his tone laden with faux inquisitiveness at the obvious answer. 

Derek shot a glare at Stiles even as he moaned and Stiles leaned back down to give another lick. He had been growing steadily more aroused since he first set Sharpie to skin, and was now well past the point that being trapped within the confines of his jeans was _painful._

He lifted his arms up to grip at Stiles’ hips, and eased him down so that their clothed erections brushed against each other, his own pelvis lifting up on instinct to grind against Stiles, the pressure and motion sending a frisson of electricity through Derek, and judging by the choking sound he made, Stiles as well. 

“You-“ Stiles gasped out before grinding back and dropping his head further to _bite_ at Derek’s clavicle as they continued to grind and hump against each other like the horny teenagers they were. 

Derek maneuvered to work a hand between the two of them, and popped the button on his jeans before fighting with his fly, sighing at the slight relief. He wiggled as much as he was able to help ease the jeans down further, a motion he got the impression that Stiles appreciated, judging by the sound he made against Derek’s neck where he was working on creating a third love bite, even if he was not yet completely aware what the movement was for. 

But he seemed to catch up fairly quickly once Derek managed to get his hands on Stiles’ pants. And though the angle was more awkward and Stiles seemed adamantly against anything getting in the way of grinding against Derek, Derek quickly was able to make Stiles’ pants’ situation very similar to his own, unbuttoning and unzipping him and shoving his pants as far down as he was able so now both of their jeans were stuck around their upper thighs. It didn’t allow either of them much mobility, but it wasn’t like they were going anywhere anytime soon. 

They were still basically just gyrating against each other, Stiles having temporarily abandoned his mission to mark Derek up as much as possible to return the kissing him with boundless enthusiasm, but now their nether regions were free from the rough protection that denim provided, and the only barrier between their hard and leaking erections were their respective thin, and more than a little damp, underwear. And they were barely a hindrance at all as they moved against each other with increasing fervor. 

Stiles had managed to find at some point a pair of boxer briefs that had both cartoonish red hearts and the Batman logo on them. Derek only saw them in flashes as he glanced down, but abstractedly thought that, if he were to give thought to it, that they were very charming and very Stiles. But at the moment he was far more interested in the red and glistening cockhead poking out the front of Stiles’ underwear. 

He reached out again with clumsy hands for Stiles’ cock and by feel eased it out of the front opening in his underwear, one hand keeping a loose grip on it, because this was Stiles’ _dick_ in Derek’s hand , and he had dreamed of and written about this moment for years, and he just needed to hold on, to feel it, the warmth and rigidness and veins and give, while he used his other hand to shove his own underwear far enough down so that his cock was able to pop over the top, making them skin to skin as they continued to slide and grind against each other. 

“Oh fuck!” Stiles shouted out, his head popping up to gasp the moment Derek first got his hand on him, before contenting himself with making more moans as Derek moved his hand up and down his cock, Stiles precum working well enough as lubricant for the time being, even as they continued to rut eagerly against each other. 

Stiles had moved from holding himself up on his arms to resting on his forearms, keeping him closer to Derek than before but still affording him some additional leverage on top of Derek, though they were both starting to tremble. When Derek let his arms flit to the side he could see the edges of the poem on Stiles’ skin, looking for all the world like it truly belonged there. 

“Oh fuck, Derek, Derek…” he moaned out, dropping his head back down for another kiss but missing the mark, his lips instead sliding down the side of Derek’s face. Derek took advantage of the new position, and eager to return what Stiles had given him earlier, latched on to the underside of Stiles jaw, two or three inches below and away from the ear, and proceeded to give Stiles a monstrous love bite of his own. 

And evidently that was enough to push Stiles over the edge as he let out a stuttering cry, and then there was a sticky wetness all over Derek’s hand and between the two of them. Stiles continued to thrust against Derek, with Derek acting in kind as his orgasm ran its course, and all but collapsing on top of Derek once he was spent. 

He rolled off to the side, lying next to Derek and panted out, “One sec, ‘kay?” before reaching over with a somewhat shaky hand to begin jerking Derek off. 

The angle was even more awkward than the one that Derek had had on Stiles, but it was Stiles’ hand on his dick, and he was close enough already that that was all that mattered. 

He came all over Stiles’ hand and himself, feeling wrung out as he never had after any solo hands on session he had ever indulged in. 

They lay there next to each other on the bed, both trying to catch their breath for a few moments, before Stiles turned to face Derek and hoisted himself up onto his elbow before bending down to give an exceedingly gentle and tender kiss to the blossoming bruise where he first set to work on marking Derek. 

“That was great, that was really great, like, super great. That was _awesome_ ,” he said against Derek’s skin. 

“It really, really was,” Derek agreed, wiping the remnants of Stiles’ orgasm off of his hand onto the bed sheets, then bringing it up to settle on Stiles’ back and pull him down on top of him into a hug. 

“Told Scott I’d still have an amazing time without needing condoms if I managed not to fuck things up anymore,” Stiles said, lips dragging across Derek’s neck as he spoke. 

“What are you even talking about?” Derek asked. There was a familiar sound coming in the window from outside, but in his relaxed post coital state it was all he could do to focus on whatever Stiles was talking about. 

“My friends are disturbingly invested in our love life. Yours too, did you know?” 

Derek snorted, “I am aware.” 

He rubbed his hand in circles on Stiles’ back, the naggingly familiar sound from outside having grown louder and then stopped, confirming to Derek that he was right to focus on the matter at hand. 

“You’re not completely off the hook you know. I’m probably going to let you read everything I have now anyway, because in a way a lot of them are yours…but if I ever ask you not to, I want you to stick to that.” 

“I will. I promise.” 

“And I know they convinced themselves that they had the best of intentions, but Scott and Allison-” 

“I’ll tell them they need to apologize. I think they know they need to, they just get caught up in things and…but yeah, they need to say it to your face. And I just wanna put forth, if you are feeling at all poetically vengeful I know something that would work as some petty revenge on Scott at least.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Derek asked a scant millisecond before his bedroom door burst open revealing a smirking Laura in the doorway as the realization that the sound he had heard moments ago had been the Camaro pulling up to the house crashed through Derek’s mind. 

“So I’m pretty sure I recognize that Jeep out front, did you finally stop staring and…” Laura began before trailing off as she took stock of the situation, and Derek was so, _so,_ thankful that Stiles was pretty much lying directly on top of him right now, because even if things were getting a little sticky and uncomfortable, their position at the very least hiding that neither of them had bothered to tuck their dicks back into their underwear once they both came. 

“So you obviously went a couple steps beyond just stopping staring…” 

“Just leave Laura!” Derek shouted out, pulling Stiles even tighter against him as if he could shield him from Laura’s mocking elder sister ways. 

“But I don’t think I’ve even seen Stiles since I graduated. What if I want to say hi?” 

“Hi Laura, nice to see you’re doing well, _now get the hell out_!” Stiles yelled. 

“Now that is just rude,” Laura said taking another step further into the room, before stopping abruptly, her face turning red. The way Derek’s room was laid out, Laura’s view from the vantage point of the doorway had only been enough for her to see the top halves of Derek and Stiles embracing on the bed, but now that she was further inside she could see them both laid out in their underwear with their pants around their knees. 

More or less in their underwear as Derek’s were only on his ass still by the barest of margins. 

“Derek did you already…seriously, when did you even start talking to him?” she asked incredulously, quickly backing up while melodramatically covering her eyes. 

“In a very timely fashion!” Stiles retorted. 

“Very timely, now get out!” Derek shouted in agreement. 

“Fine,” Laura shot back, her composure regained as she took her original position in the doorway. “You two should just be glad that I told Cora to wait downstairs. She wanted to come up and tease you and Stiles, but I convinced her that a multistage mocking would be more effective and amusing. So be prepared for more of that sans any higher than PG-13 details at dinner.” 

“I wasn’t planning on staying for dinner,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s neck. Derek would have appreciated it all a bit more if Laura would just leave already. 

“Yeah, but I texted Mom and Dad as soon as I saw the Jeep, so they’re expecting you now. Unless you want to be rude?” 

“I will stay for dinner,” Stiles said, resigning himself to Laura’s machinations. 

“Cools. I think I’ll give Uncle Peter a ring, see if he wants to swing by,” Laura said with a smirk before finally leaving what had Derek done to deserve her as a sister, and shutting the door behind her. 

Stiles pushed himself up off of Derek enough to be able to look him in the face. 

“You were severely underselling how awful your sister was earlier, weren’t you?” Stiles asked accusingly, though his tone lost some of its bite as his gaze drifted to Derek’s lips and he dropped a dry peck upon them as if he couldn’t help himself. “And I think we may start to fuse to each other soon. I wonder if there have ever been any studies done on semen as a bonding agent.” 

“I seriously doubt any substantial amount of funding has gone towards it, and…it’s just hard to put Laura into words is all,” Derek said as he returned Stiles’ kiss before shoving Stiles off of him. Stiles took the push in stride and rolled over so he lay next to Derek on the bed. 

“I think your limerick actually got it right,” Stiles groused. He lifted up his head to look down at the mess that was his underwear. “Dammit Laura, even once I clean up what I can there is no way I can sit through dinner with your family in jizz encrusted undies. Your mom would probably know. Somehow.” 

“I would worry more about my uncle. He has a knack for noticing and then reveling in the inappropriate,” Derek said, reluctantly sitting up, even though if left to his own devices he would be more than happy to continue lying next to Stiles for a while yet, stickiness and all. “I think I can manage to get us some washcloths from the bathroom without running into any interference, and I can loan you a pair of my underwear to get through the evening.” 

“I’ll be wearing your underwear for dinner with your parents. While you’ll be wearing all the hickeys I gave you,” Stiles said sitting up and scrubbing his hand through his already incredibly disheveled hair. 

“I gave one to you too,” Derek pointed out as he stood, pulling his underwear back up for the brief excursion to the bathroom. 

“I know, it’s just that apparently we are not doing anything by halves today. Undies and hickeys both exchanged right after declarations and poetry,” Stiles said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and smiled up at Derek, looking flushed and kissed and wonderful. 

“I’m glad we stopped wasting time,” Stiles said reaching out to grasp Derek’s hand before he walked away to brave the hallway. 

“Me too,” Derek said squeezing Stiles’ hand tight. 

***** 

“So it looks like the two of you really cracked the books yesterday,” Lydia said archly as she took in the state of both Derek and Stiles’ necks while Prada and Warren romped joyfully in front of them, occasionally running off to greet another long lost dog park buddy. “You two went from shy to shameless right off the bat, didn’t you? Not even a token effort at discretion like a scarf or makeup?” 

“Oddly enough, neither Derek nor I have mad makeup applying skills. Also, scarves are apparently Isaac’s thing and we didn’t want to bogart his style. And anyways, after having to have dinner with his family wearing these, and then after _someone_ called my dad telling him to swing by for dessert once he got off shift-” Stiles began. 

“I’m still not sure if it was Peter or Laura, though I’m leaning toward Peter because I think if she had been expecting it Laura would have been prepared and not cackled quite as much,” Derek said, his ire at his family members’ sense of humor tempered by the joy of holding Stiles’ hand while talking to Lydia and watching the dogs like it was the most natural thing going. 

“Whoever did it, after that double dose of parental _knowing_ we have thrown shame by the wayside for awhile. And besides, there are some benefits to not hiding the results of our ardent passion,” Stiles said with an exaggerated leer, to which Lydia rolled her eyes. 

“You just want them on display to mess with Scott, don’t you?” 

“Now why would you think that?” 

“Because when I mentioned it you couldn’t completely suppress a smirk, and he’s walking up behind you waving,” Lydia said, giving a small wave to Scott who was indeed quickly approaching. 

“Hey guys! How’s it going? And what’s that written on your arm Stiles?” Scott asked brightly as he jogged up to the group. 

Stiles turned around to greet him, arching neck and tilting his head for maximum exposure of the hickey Derek had given him yesterday afternoon. Derek didn’t bother to adjust his position at all as this was Stiles’ fun time more than his, and besides, the ones Stiles had graced him with were on plenty enough of display without any posing needed. 

“How does it look like things have been going Scott? Because I would be _more_ than happy to give you the details….” Stiles said with a grin. Scott at looked confused for about half a second before he took in all the evidence, and by the time Stiles had finished talking he was already sputtering. 

“No, no you don’t need to, I’m good…” 

“See, Derek, your sister flusters us, I get to fluster my brother here. The circle of…something, those things are probably not as cosmically connected as I first thought.” 

“Probably not. And no warm glow of nostalgia is every going to reduce Laura being Laura yesterday to ‘flustering’ us,” Derek said with a shake of his head. 

“You know, you two are actually making _me_ very interested in hearing at least a few details. And the arm?” Lydia asked while daintily bending at the knees to scratch a preening Prada behind the ears before the little dog once again took off to nose at Warren. 

“Foreplay,” Stiles said succinctly while Derek choked back a laugh and Lydia raised her eyebrows. 

“That can all be discussed later, if ever,” Scott said, fully back to himself. “Right now, I wanted to apologize for going through your stuff Derek. And photocopying it. And giving it to Stiles. I just wanted to help make him happy and didn’t really think about how I was doing it. And I don’t want you to think I’m just apologizing because Stiles told me to, though that’s why I’m doing it right at this moment I guess. He did use all caps in his text so I figured that meant the sooner the better,” Scott said with a glance at Stiles who nodded in agreement. “I guess sometimes I just want everything to be good for everyone and sometimes I guess I kind of developed the mentality that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission when it comes to doing certain things. Oh, and Allison feels the same way too, just she and her mom are doing like a mother daughter bonding day thing so…I’ll guess she’ll tell you later?” 

“I accept your apology, because I know you thought you were being helpful. And even if it was the wrong way, I can’t deny you did end up actually being helpful,” Derek said, sliding his hand out of Stiles’ to shrug his backpack off his shoulder and reach inside. “Though I am wondering if you got that ‘forgiveness after the fact’ mentality from Stiles, if he got it from you, or whether it’s a result of the two of you growing up together.” 

“Some things in life must remain a mystery,” said Stiles, leaning over to kiss Derek on the temple. 

“Anyway, at Stiles’ suggestion,” Derek began as he pulled out a printout with a scanned notebook page on it, one that Scott eyed warily, “Read this. Let the punishment fit the crime and all that.” 

Scott took the paper warily and started reading, his face soon taking on a panicked expression broadcasting that he desperately wanted to stop reading but was unable too. Lydia seeing his reaction positioned herself at his elbow to read as well, her lips parting in a soft ‘oh’. 

“I wonder if we should send a copy to Isaac. After all I got the idea from him,” Stiles said, reaching out to reclaim Derek’s hand with a squeeze, before pulling him in the direction of the soft pretzel cart that had set up to provide dog owners and admirers alike with sustenance. 

“I would have written it anyway,” Derek said, earning a delighted look from Stiles. 

“And anyway,” he said leaning in close, letting his mouth ghost along Stiles’ cheek before reaching his ear. “You should just wait to see what I write for you when we can finally spend a whole night and day together uninterrupted.” 

Stiles turned his head toward Derek, tilting his face up as Derek did down from his earlier position, softly nuzzling against each other until their lips met. Stiles smiled through the kiss, and at its end breathed into Derek’s mouth: 

“I look forward to it,” Stiles said, bringing their joined hands up between them to rub against his torso, where hidden beneath his shirt was written the poem that Scott and Lydia were currently turning varying shades of pink over. 

  
  
_**In my bed i imagined you once**_

_**(that is a lie, ‘once’. A hundred times, a thousand, too many to be told)**_

_**my mind’s eye painted the flush upon your cheek**_

_**your chest**_

_**your cock**_

_**and in my mind you moaned my name**_

_**sweet and slick and hot in my bed**_

_**so often, like a sickness**_

_**i imagined you**_

  
  
_**How lacking my imagination was**_

_**how sad and pale**_

_**to the touch of your lips to mine**_

_**(to my neck, to my chest, to my bones)**_

_**your muscles under my hand**_

_**life and blood and lust and love**_

_**a graze of teeth**_

_**a harsh gasping pant**_

_**an unreal reality in my bed**_

  
  
_**Our clothes barely removed**_

_**we rut like animals**_

_**like the primal force of life and need given flesh**_

_**leaking cocks touch and thrust**_

_**your heat in my hand**_

_**(and mine in yours, we made each other both a mess)**_

_**spilling over**_

_**(love and spunk)**_

_**the little death in my bed is ours and real**_

  
  
_**I love you**_

_**(you are real, we are real)**_

_**i love you.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is finished! Thanks to everyone who read! Poems in this segment were a nonnet because it is really quite a cute and fun format that I thought would work quite well as something to be written on someone's arm, and free verse as none of the structured forms that I had any familiarity with and hadn't done yet felt right for the final, shall we say a little smutty poem, and if I was going to repeat a poetic form I wanted one with the most freedom :) 
> 
> And just in case any of you loverly readers doesn't have as many random bits of trivia useless in everyday life floating in your head, the 'little death in my bed' refers to 'La Petite Mort', a French phrase which is a euphemism for orgasm ;) So we all learned some French today! 
> 
> In addition to Too_Old being a wonderful beta, the awesomesauce zanna also let me bounce many of the poems off her, so again many of my thanks to both of them.
> 
> Once again, I hope you all enjoyed this, and feedback of course is a loverly thing should you feel so inclined :)


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